


Dive now

by Sisyphe



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hypnotism, Introspection, Light Angst, Mass Effect 3, Masturbation, Moral Dilemmas, Prank Wars, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 74,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4791410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisyphe/pseuds/Sisyphe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mass Effect kink meme fill.</p><p>Shepard is fascinated by hypnosis and Garrus is curious. They decide to test the theory on him, and apparently it doesn't work on Turians. But he wants to prank her, so he pretends it works, intending to make her believe it went horribly wrong. But then, when she's sure she succeeded, she unexpectedly asks him for a hug...</p><p>A story of trust, friendship, denial and overflowing hidden desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Fill: <http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/9115.html?thread=43831707#t43831707>
> 
> Original prompt:
> 
> Shepard was reading some article about hypnosis when Garrus came looking for her. As they decided to fool around with it with Garrus being the experiment, he suddenly decided to pretend to have fall under her hypnosis for real, planning to prank her by suddenly go against her orders afterwards. But much to his surprise, once Shepard confirmed that he was really under her spell, her order to him was to hug her.
> 
> Shepard's actually loved him for a long time but couldn't reveal it since she believed he would rather have someone closer to home. Now having the chance to enjoy his present a little more, she make out the most of it by constantly ordering him when there were just the two of them. Her order were often things like "Spoon-feed me", "kiss me", "hold me", "let me sit on your lap" or "cuddle with me". Garrus, of course, was more than happy to comply her wishes but also confused by the fact that she never made him do something more extreme like having sex with her despite sometimes she ended up in a very aroused stage during their times together. But he didn't question it in fear she'd realized that he was faking and would stop their sections all together.
> 
> Then came one day on a shore leave, a female turian took interest in Garrus and despite it hurt her, Shepard encouraged Garrus to have fun. She returned to her cabin, only for Garrus to come after her moment later. They had a fight, and she decided to give the order of "Go and be with the one you attract to". To her surprise, Garrus immediately hug her, kiss her senselessly and reveal everything. What happened after that is your decision!
> 
> Would love to see:  
> \+ Default Jane Shepard from ME3.  
> \+ One of Shepard's orders to Garrus was to kneel down on his knee and kiss her hand, then bridal carry her like a princess.  
> \+ Shepard told Garrus about her stress during the war, how she hated herself and thought that she didn't deserve to be loved for all the murders that she committed and then order him to forget everything. Of course, Garrus would still remember them and later confirm to her that he loved her no matter what.  
> \+ Or Shepard can just revealed her embarrassing secret to him like the cute or girly things that she wanted but afraid to have since it was unbecoming for Cmr.Shepard. In the end, Garrus remembered to get them for her.  
> \+ It's Garrus to order Shepard around and he definitely isn't shy to do extreme stuffs!
> 
>  
> 
> This is my very first fanfic so advice and constructive criticism are very much welcome. ;)

Contrary to popular belief, Shepard has a very active and curious mind. She always comes across as brash, impulsive, peremptory, and generally relying on her gut. Not that those impressions were inaccurate, but few people realize that they only are some of the many facets her personality possesses. Whether it is due to her position as a commanding officer or the fact that she generally keeps people at arm's length, she never really knew. Probably a bit of both.

As a result, the people who actually know of her fascination about the wonders of the mind are either dead or extremely scarce. Not surprising considering what happened on Mindoir. The happy, exuberant child she used to be died that day, along with her friends and family and countless pieces of her heart. It left her with a deep-rooted fear of bonding and lose again, and shaped her into the secretive and vengeful woman she is now known as.

However, she never lost her craving for knowledge, and every time she finds something new to read about philosophy, psychology, history, sociology or even archaeology, she still feels that spark of light and warmth and inextinguishable thirst within her chest. Reading still keeps her sane, soothes her nerves, feeds her mind, and never fails to remind her what she's ultimately fighting for. And even as Earth is burning and free time has become a rare luxury, she still indulges in a little reading from time to time. She needs it, more than ever. It always feels like a life-saving breath of air after free diving for too long.

She always had a special kind of fascination for mysteries, for all the things that defy science and shake the limits of knowledge. It started when she had had her esoteric phase as a teen, but as she gradually moved to more serious sources and learnt more about science, she ended up discarding her silliest readings. Ghosts, really Jane?

And here she is, alone in her cabin, sat cross-legged on the couch, bent over a datapad and reading her last secret pleasure. She'd found that gem on the extranet two weeks ago, but never had a minute to enjoy it: a memoir on hypnosis written by a famous psychiatrist around the end of the 21st century. Hypnosis has always been a subject that sparked her interest, but serious readings on it are hard to come by. She researched it from time to time, but the humongous amount of pseudoscience and general bullcrap people tended to spew about it always ended up discouraging her. Until the day she found that file.

Serious and extensive bibliography, meticulous theories and honest admissions on what has yet to be explained or discovered, and an impressive collection of clinical cases in psychiatry, as well as other examples in the military and the entertainment industry. She's been so absorbed by it she hasn't even set foot outside of the Normandy since she'd docked on the Citadel for a well-deserved four days of shore leave and restocking. The description of the different techniques are so precise she can't help but want to try them, and the anecdo-

"Shepard?"

Dammit.

"Yes, EDI?"

"I apologize for interrupting but Garrus is now back on board."

Right. She asked her to be notified as soon as he came back. She just thought she would have some more time. Checking the time on her omni-tool, her irritation suddenly vanished. Four hours. She'd been reading for four full hours without even realizing it. So that's why her legs are numb and her neck is sore. And here she was planning on a little trip to the Presidium commons to check on that new armor she's been drooling over since Cortez told her it was released. Oh well.

"Thanks."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

She sends a quick message to Garrus to let him know his bottle of horosk is still in her cabin if he needs any. He probably does after spending the whole afternoon in the holding area of the docks. Dealing with the never-ending influx of refugees when your own family is missing tends to do that to you. There's a special brand of despair tainting the air down there, and you can only breathe so much of it before feeling parts of your soul crumbling. She tends to avoid the area as much as she can. She will never admit the reason out loud though. Even she has limits, and after all she's lived and done, she doesn't need any more reminders of how dire the situation is, nor the inevitable drain of energy she always feels in that place. But saying it out loud? No one needs that. Everyone needs her strong and unshakable. Not fair, but she learnt that hardly anything is fair in life when she was sixteen. She's learnt to accept it. Kind of.

He answers: "Hell yes. Gimme a minute." Heh. They've known each other for so long that it seems they can read each other's minds at times. It's more apparent in the field, where they barely have to communicate at all to cover each other's back, and even come up with strategies with a look and a subtle movement of the head. He's always been there from the very beginning of this surreal journey. He never let her down. Always supported her, however insufferable she can be sometimes. He's learnt to look past that and see more of her than she lets on, which still surprises her since he clearly bests her own species in that department. She bets C-Sec painfully misses him, however much of a wildcard he always was.

A bad Human and a bad Turian. No wonder they developed this kind of closeness. With time, their friendship and her trust in him became strong enough to crack her walls. Now he's one of the very few she shares her readings with. It terrifies her though, and she tries her best to hide it. As always.

A knock on her door, and it swishes open to reveal a tired Turian. He seems to have lost a few centimeters since this morning. Regardless, his eyes hold a familiar warmth and his mandibles flare in a smile when he spots her.

"Hey Shepard."

"Hey Garrus, you look like shit."

He chuckles.

"You sure know how to make a man feel special. Are you trying to make me blush?"

"Gotta try until it works. Here, sit down. I'll get the booze."

As she stands up and walks to the small closet she keeps her liquor in, he sits and lets a heavy sigh out. Soon, she's back with Garrus' horosk, some TM88 peruvian whiskey for herself, and two glasses she promptly fills.

"How's the situation down there? Could you get those surplus rations the fifth fleet messaged you about?" she asked, handing him his glass.

"It's getting worse, we're having a few cases of fever among the Batarian refugees no one knows the origin of. Medical staff is going nuts over it so it doesn't turn into a full outbreak. I have a bad feeling about it. Sanitary conditions are harder to maintain every day. And no, we haven't received the rations yet, but they're on their way. They had a close call while leaving Triginta Petra when reapers appeared out of nowhere. Had to take a detour and refuel, but they're alive and should arrive shortly."

He took a swig and sighed again. He seemed to do that a lot lately. He had heard about a Human legend according to which a bit of your Spirit, or whatever their equivalent is, escapes every time you sigh. He must have close to none left by now.

"Well, at least that last part looks like good news." She forces out a half smile and drinks. Smile, Jane. He needs you strong.

It always pains him when she does that though. Her moments of doubts are so obvious and she still feels the obligation to hide them from him even if she knows very well he's the last person she could fool. Even after all these years, he still feels like she inevitably slips out of his grasp every time she needs to not be alone the most. It frustrates him to no end. Sure, this war is hard on everyone, and it's taking its toll on him too. But at times like these, he wishes she would lean on him a little more. As it is, he feels even more useless. A part of him is disgusted that he'd like her to depend on him more for his own benefit. He feels selfish.

Another part of him he's been fighting hard to repress lately shows up once in a while and even more selfishly wants to know what it would feel like to hold her while she leans on him.

Not good. Time to change the subject and lighten the mood. Reach her with what he can. He takes her discarded datapad in his hand.

"Yeah. So, what's on that datapad? Your latest breath of air?"

"Yup!"

Her smile is genuine this time. He can see the excitement in her eyes. It must be good stuff. Ever since she shared her passion for Human sciences they've had discussions and debates on a regular basis. She would share her readings and he would discuss how they differed from Turian society. He knows how much it helps her, but if he's honest with himself it probably helps him just as much. Besides, it brings them even closer, which makes his chest swell with a welcome feeling of satisfaction amidst a war of pain, loss and anguish.

"What is it about this time?"

"I found that big ass memoir on hypnosis the other day. It's so awesome I forgot to move for the past four hours. Wanna read it?" She points at the datapad nonchalantly.

"Heh, no thanks. Too long for me. Care to summarize it for the lazy Turian?"

"Sure, it's the best work about hypnosis I've ever come across. It describes the different techniques in details and has a shitload of clinical cases. Extremely thorough."

He blinks.

"Hip... what?"

"Hypnosis. You guys don't have that?"

"I don't think we do, and my translator is having a field day with it, sending me pics of spirals and colorful patterns. Trippy. Now I'm intrigued." He says honestly.

He leans towards her, elbows on his knees. She now has a wolfish grin on her face. She knows he loves to hear about what he calls "bizarre Human practices" and this one sure is. Even to her. She always takes pleasure in explaining them to him, both because of the simple rewarding feeling of sharing and because she enjoys having his undivided attention.

"Oh you're going to like that one."


	2. Sleep

Two rounds of liquor, a couple of demonstration vids and a good amount of questions later, Garrus has a good idea of what hypnosis actually is. It helps that Turians also have an unconscious part to their brain, but the fact that Humans have found such a simple way to access and manipulate it is new. He never heard of such a thing in his own species. Humans. Will wonders ever cease?

"Wow. And it actually works in surgery?"

Shepard downs the remainder of her whiskey and leans back, draping an arm over the back of the couch.

"Yes it does. Pretty useful when the patient is allergic to whatever's available for anesthesia. In the military too, when painkillers are scarce, they can hypnotize the wounded to numb the pain. Or even to handle torture."

"Isn't that cheating?" He says with a smirk.

She lets out a hearty laugh and he chuckles.

"All is fair in love and war my dear." She says with a wink.

"Right. But knowing a person can plant weird things in your brain, well... gotta trust them an awful lot."

"Sure, you don't do that with just anybody. I always wanted to try it though."

Seeing her pensive face, he can't help but feeling curious. It seems so simple. Too simple even. Does this actually work? Is the lack of a similar technique in Turian science due to Turians being refractory, or is it that they just never considered such a thing to be possible at all? Being the bad Turian he is, he just needs to address the question. Hands-on.

"Should we?"

"What?" She says, turning her head towards him, breaking out of her thoughts.

"Try it. I wonder if it works on Turians."

"Wait, you want me to hypnotize you?" She frowns. "Garrus, I've never done it before and I'm no professional. With everything I've said you should know it's not exactly safe."

"I'm not asking for anesthesia, Shepard. Just put me in and out of it, just to see if it works."

"You sure?"

"Well, there's no one I trust more in this spirits-forsaken galaxy. If I have to do it, I'll only do it with you. And I want to try, really." He smiles. "Curiosity is killing me now, with all you've said."

She's torn. She really wants to do it, but what if something goes wrong? It's bad enough that she wouldn't know what she's doing on a Human already, but Turians are uncharted territory. And to test the waters on Garrus? Her closest friend? As much as she's for bold experimentation in lots of areas, he's too precious to her for that.

"Even on Humans, it's uncertain at best. It could break you for all we know."

"Putting me to sleep? C'mon Shepard, what's the worst that could happen? Unless you ask me to run naked in the mess screaming hanar pick-up lines, of course." He deadpans.

"Don't tempt me." She snickers. "And thanks for the mental image, I'll cherish that one forever."

"I knew you'd like it. So, are we doing it?"

She pauses, giving him a blank look. He's right in a way. Just put him to sleep, maybe try to make him move a limb, and wake him up. Easy. Besides, her quarters are a safe and familiar environment. It should help.

"Fucking fine." She frowns. "But you'd better be okay after this, or I'm punching you out of it."

"Duly noted."

His grin is infectious and she relaxes a bit, stops frowning. She shifts towards the corner of the couch, closer to him. She takes a deep breath to ease the nagging nervousness, and his smell washes over her, calming her. She closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them, she puts the hand closest to him on the back of his neck, and takes his hand with the other.

"Ok. Look into my eyes now. Relax, and breathe in time with the movements of your hand." She slowly lifts it, and they both inhale slowly. She lowers it and they exhale. Keeping a slow rhythm with his hand, she continues. "Every time you breathe out, you feel like you're diving, sliding, and it feels good."

Surprisingly enough, it does feel good. It's oddly relaxing despite her hand on his neck. He should have expected it from the vids they saw, but it surprised him. It's not every day he gets to have physical contact with her, without the hard plating of their armor. It's exciting and calming at once. It's nice.

"You're feeling the urge to blink and your eyelids are heavy. Take deep breaths. Your head is heavy, and you're sleepy."

She started to lightly massage the back of his neck. Too low to be distracting, but surprisingly pleasurable. For a fleeting moment, he has a flicker of doubt. Is this really working?

"You can close your eyes if you wish to. You're starting to fall asleep" Hand up, hand down, massage, repeat.

He closes his eyes. Still feeling good but very much awake, a silly idea pops in his head. They started to prank each other a while ago. Neither really remembers who started it, but they would take turns getting back at one another every other day. Last time, she sabotaged his cot and he fell right through it when he went to bed. He had to spend half an hour welding the damn thing back into shape. And now it's his turn.

He'll pretend it worked, the vids were enough to know how to act it, more or less. And then, he'll pretend he can't wake up from the trance. It's evil, she's probably going to freak out big time. But hey, his shoulder is still sore from when he bonelessly collapsed into a broken cot. He just needs to stop the act before she starts keeping her promise of using her fists to wake him up. He knows she will, and she has a mean hook. Even for a Turian.

"Now, sleep."

She pulls his hand a little lower this time, and he falls forward. Before she ends up with two hundred kilograms of armored Turian on her lap, she lets go of his hand and catches him by the front of his cowl. He's as heavy as a dead horse, but she manages.

"Holy shit!" Her eyes widen impossibly large. "Garrus, sit up!"

He straightens his back, wobbling a little, his eyelids half-closed and mandibles slightly slack. His eyes are unfocused, looking somewhere beyond the coffee table. She releases him and eyes him suspiciously.

"Ok. If you're pulling my leg, now is the time to come clean before I rip your mandibles out and shove them up your cloaca."

Yep, she's going to be majorly pissed. He tries his best not to snicker.

"Garrus?"

No reaction.

"Garrus, lift your left hand and put it on top of your head."

After a couple of seconds wondering what the hell she was going for, he obliges. Slowly, hesitantly, he presses the palm of his hand between his forehead plate and fringe root. No sudden movements, it could give him away. Her eyes widen again.

"I'll be damned."

She takes a moment to think, looking at the Turian in front of her. The deadly and fearless sniper, always so cocky and witty, looking a bit silly with a hand on top of his head. Now that is a sight worth a million creds.

Now is time for step two, though. She needs to give him a hint that he indeed was out for real, a proof that she could induce behaviors without him knowing. Looking around her, an idea pops in her head. If she can order him to move a hand, she probably can order him to walk a few steps. And since carrying him is still beyond her otherwise impressive strength, that should be proof enough.

She stands up and walks towards the foot of the bed. Still standing, she beckons him.

"Garrus, come here and sit on the edge of the bed."

After a moment of silence, he drops his hand, slowly stands up and starts walking, his back slightly arched, and a subtle stagger in his step. He's doing his best not to overact and probably does a good job at it, since she lost that suspicious look in her eyes. Standing beside her, he slowly turns his back to the bed and lowers himself on it. She sits with him. Part of him is a bit surprised she's already gone far beyond what they agreed on, but he gets what she's trying to do. Fair enough.

Seeing him sat on her bed as he was ordered to, with no hope for him to remember the order itself, has an unexpected effect on her. She never saw it coming. Her face is suddenly blank, but inside, a dam is breaking loose.

All at once, she is flooded with memories. Shards of the past when she felt on the verge of explosion, when the pressure, the guilt, the stress became too much to bear. Times when she could feel her inner demons tearing her insides with regrets, loss and helplessness. Mindoir, Torfan, Virmire, Horizon, Vancouver... All those instances when she could distinctly remember wishing she could still time or slip into another dimension and let it all out, because she didn't have that freedom when and where she stood.

All those times, she always imagined she would be the one who would swap dimensions. Never the other way around.

And Garrus, her beautiful friend, her anchor, her precious right hand, the very reason she still has the strength to cling on the last slivers of her sanity, did just that.

Her mouth suddenly has a mind on its own.

"Garrus, hug me."


	3. Weep

Say what?

At that very moment, Garrus does the biggest double take of his life. His brain feels like it's shutting down and booting again, like a buggy omni-tool. He doesn't know how much time it took before his brain cells are up and running again, and now he's trying to make sense of the most unexpected thing that ever came out of Shepard's mouth. And that's saying something since she's usually hard to predict at best.

Wait, did she really say what he thinks she said? His mind is starting to panic now, and he miraculously manages to resist the urge to tense and whip his head towards her. He needs to confirm he heard her right. How? What does that mean? No, not the time for that. What now? No time to think. There's that tiny part of his brain screaming "Yes please!" and he lets it win, for now. Still better than nothing anyway. Slowly, he turns his upper body towards her and starts shifting his arms. The movement is clear enough to be taken as a green light if he heard right, and slow and vague enough to let her act otherwise if he hasn't. It still feels like a leap into the void and he feels his stomach jump and his heart pounding.

To his surprise and relief, she lifts her hands, drapes them around the cowl of his armor and presses her forehead against the base of his neck. Feeling light-headed, he distantly senses his own arms wrap themselves around her back and hold her tight.

So he did hear her right.

They don't move for a while and it gives him some time to analyze the situation. Shepard is hugging him. That very same Shepard who wears the most intimidating titles in the whole Galaxy. Butcher of Torfan, Hero of the citadel, the fearless warrior who led her crew through the Omega-4 relay and made it back like she owned the place. The unequaled leader the whole galaxy is desperately clinging on like a lifeline when it's burning under the fire of an enemy that dwarfs their worst nightmares. This woman who never fails to hide her own weaknesses and wounds to the world in order to give strength to everyone around her.

He knows better. He always did. Even when he didn't know her personally yet, it wasn't hard to figure the mental scarring a traumatizing past such as hers could leave. Most people don't stop and think about it, and judge her on what they witness in person, but old C-Sec habits die hard. He had built her psychological profile in his head right away. Always acted accordingly too, offering her a subtle kind of support most people would probably never guess she needed. As much as he admired her, he also worried about her.

But such a need for a hug, he never saw that one coming.

Then again, she's hard to predict at best. Besides, and this actually makes him smile, hugs are a very Human practice, so he shouldn't be this surprised. They are said to reduce stress levels in a very effective way, she had explained one day. He shouldn't forget that despite their numerous similarities, she's still very Human. And she therefore needs hugs. This, he realizes, is unexpectedly cute. Shepard doesn't do cute.

Still, a part of him is reminding him that he's not supposed to be aware of it. It spawns a lot of mixed feelings in him. A part of him is touched she would choose his arms, but another, that more possessive and selfish part of him he always tries to stifle, is hurting over the fact that she still doesn't trust him enough to do it while he's conscious. And speaking of trust, what about the fact that she's using his supposedly unconscious body way beyond what he agreed on in the first place? What does that say about his trust in her?

Well, not much harm done anyways. A hug is not exactly the worst one could do to an unconscious friend. And he finally gets to know what she feels like in his arms. He had felt this urge for a while now. Protectiveness, care, worry, and a strange pull towards her had taken him by surprise after Horizon. Ever since that mission, he always could feel in his gut when she needed his special kind of support, and during those times he always felt that strange physical attraction. The need to touch her, soothe her, take her in his arms. But that was inappropriate, even for him.

So now that she's there, he can't help but revel in it. He never had a non-Turian in his arms, and now he can feel all the little differences, despite the unforgiving hardness of his armor. He notices how pliant and her body is, yet how strong her back is against his grip. She feels soft and warm under her fatigues, yet her hold on him is unyielding. This is everything he had imagined and then some. He starts to see the appeal of Human hugging. His nerves are gradually calming down as his body melts into it. It feels so good he wishes he would never let go.

That is until he feels like he was thrown in an ice-cold pool of water, as he hears the first sob.

It was so soft he would have probably missed it had he not been so used to working and living with Humans. But it was there. Then, a second. And a third. As she begins to shake softly, realization hits him hard. Not only had he misjudged how much more she had needed in terms of moral support, but he seriously only thought about how she was betraying his trust by asking for a hug? Now that was a new level of awkward. He feels like he's violating something extremely intimate in her by witnessing her break down like this. But even if the hug was not already crossing way too many lines, now he's in deep. He can't possibly carry on with the prank, lest he damaged the most beautiful friendship he has ever had the honor to experience.

He feels like shit.

"...n't leave me too."

Her broken voice, barely loud enough for him to hear, pierces his heart.

But Shepard can't keep anything inside anymore. The dam is in ruins and she doesn't care anymore.

"Please, Garrus..."

As if the whole hugging thing was not out of character enough already, hearing her beg is the last straw. He hears himself start keening a soft sub-harmonic cry. Thank the spirits she can't hear it.

"Whatever happens, don't leave me..."

Living with fears so strong that they eat at away you every second of the day is something, but voicing them is so draining she feels like she's free falling. It takes a courage she never had so far, and she knows the Turian in her arms is the very reason she finally finds it. It's liberating, but somehow also makes them more real, tangible. She's overwhelmed, losing control, and suddenly cannot stop her mouth from running free.

"You would think I would know better by now... with all the lives I've ruined and taken... that I don't have the right to selfishly demand a single life to be spared, but no... I still want to play God and decide on who lives and who dies. How can people still trust me like that?"

More sobbing.

"People call me a hero... that is fucking ridiculous. Do they really only see what they want to? Can't they... can't they see? No, I bet that's easier, right? So they can dump their mess on me to clean... Easy, take a broken soldier, give them names they don't deserve and watch them struggle to pay a nonexistent debt by sorting shit they don't even realize is pointless in the grand scheme of things."

Her voice is clearer, steadier now.

"And here I thought I could do it on my own. Finally live in peace, with no one to lose again. No sword of Damocles hanging over my head anymore..."

She shifts in his arms, sniffling and sighing. Despite the too many layers of armor, she basks into his embrace. She had wanted to do that for so long. It only added to her guilt. She shouldn't want that kind of closeness in a friend. Especially not Garrus. What would he think about that if he were aware?

"But you had to barge into my life and be so... so... so what I fucking needed."

She sounds almost angry now.

"You once said I could do it without you... so wrong Garrus, you never were so wrong. I can't. Not anymore anyway. All this shit is too much, y'know? Fuck stylishly, I can't do it without you, big guy. So whatever happens, don't you fucking dare die on me... Please..."

Even though her arms are still tightly wrapped around the cowl of his armor, he feels like they've been choking him since she started talking. He can barely breathe.

She shifts again and he can feel her breathing on his neck. It's getting slower, steadier. He closes his eyes and wills his own vitals to stop going haywire. As they stay like this for a few minutes, he finally manages to calm down enough to think straight. He's supposed to be hypnotized after all. Just a bit more. Then he can pretend he remembers none of it and still do his best to grant her wish for him to stay the fuck alive. Easy.

Shepard suddenly leans back and out of his grasp, and abruptly stands up. Oh shit. How much time has passed? She runs to her bathroom and looks at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are a little puffy and red. She immediately splashes cold water on them. As she lets the water drip from her face, she takes a moment to wrap her head around what just happened. What the hell was she thinking, using him like that? Now she feels dirty and sick.

She splashes her face again. However, she hasn't felt so light for years. That was absolutely liberating. And knowing that Garrus now unconsciously knows, somewhere deep within him, how important his life is, somehow puts her at ease.

Splash. Who the hell is she kidding anyway? This is war. People count on her. Hell, the whole fucking galaxy does. If she needs this to carry on, then so be it. She still feels guilty, but admitting that the benefits are bigger than the guilt... well they don't make things any less wrong but at least she came to a decision. A selfish decision, granted, but if selfish is what she needs to win this war, she's not above it. She never really was anyway. The only detail making this one hard to make is currently still sitting on the foot of her bed. Whatever. She'll repay him, somehow.

She looks up. Much better. She dries her face quickly and trots back to the bed. She has wasted too much time already. She crouches in front of him. He still has that expressionless, half dazed look. Good.

"Garrus, when you're awake, every time I say 'dive now', I want you to instantly fall back into this hypnotic state, alright? Every time I say 'dive now', you will fall back to this place."

Wait, what?

"Every time I clap my hands twice, you will wake up."

She's seriously planning on a repeat?

She claps twice and stands up.

He blinks and straightens, not meeting her eyes yet.

"Hey, welcome back. How are you feeling?" Her grin looks almost natural.

"... Weird, to be honest." And he was. Thank the Spirits his voice didn't waver. One more miracle. Unbelievable.

"Well I guess it's expected. Hey look, I could make you walk and sit on the bed, do you remember any of it?" She asks, her back tense.

"Uh... not really." With what happened afterwards, even that is not much of a lie.

"Ok, well... you should probably go rest I guess. If you're feeling anything out of the ordinary, go straight to Chakwas, alright?"

"Hm... yeah." He stands up. "You too get some rest."

"No promises." She smirks.

"Shore leave is for commanding officers too, just so you know. I'll, huh, be in the main battery if you need me," he says, pointing vaguely towards the door.

"Sure."

She watches him leave, a little dazed, and almost trip and fall on the steps he forgot he had to climb to reach the door. When he disappears in the elevator, she lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. He'll be fine. He has to.

She can still feel his arms around her. How many times had she wanted to feel that? She lost count ages ago. She had realized she might be feeling a little more that friendship for him when she almost lost him on Omega. She really blew a gasket then, barking and yelling at everyone, with a garbled mixture of orders, pleas and undignified curses. Some of the newest members of her crew had avoided her for days after that.

However close they became, it always left her wanting a little more. More contact. More closeness. At some point, she stared wondering how his hide and plates would feel if she touched him. Now she knows, and she once again wants more. Whatever she gets, she never seems to be satisfied. How much more does she need until she doesn't feel this frustrated anymore?

She once considered she could simply be desiring him in a romantic way. She had avoided him for a couple of days while she mulled over that. It happened right after Horizon, when he gave her support like no one else ever did. Like she hadn't even realized she needed. This new closeness between them had naturally led to her questioning their relationship. She then decided it was not worth it. Their friendship was far too valuable to them, especially given the circumstances. She could not risk losing him over that. Besides, as he told her stories about recon scouts and tiebreakers, she figured the whole species thing would probably be an issue anyway.

However, she still has this nagging curiosity plaguing her. She has a general idea of what a naked Turian looks like, but it doesn't prevent her from wishing she could see a little more of him. Explore him a bit. When she massaged him earlier, well... she can still feel that tingling sensation in her spine at the discovery of the smooth and warm, scaly texture of his neck.

Shower. Right. She needed one anyway.


	4. Hold

Shepard was irritated. The day had started out so well. Despite the hot and humid climate of Sur'Kesh, and some snide comments from a couple of grumpy Salarians who could not be bothered to realize the gravity of the situation, their last mission was a success. The miracle shaman, Eve, was safe and sound and currently in the med bay with Mordin. With the two of them, they could finally have some hope to rally the Krogan and secure an alliance. Besides, she was more than happy to have the doctor back on board. She had missed him and his antics.

She also had plenty of Cerberus goons to test her new equipment on. She had taken a couple hours on the second day of their last shore leave to go shopping, like she had planned to do on the first day, before... well, before she had used Garrus as a living teddy bear. A scaly, spiky, armored, very very dangerous teddy bear.

She shivers.

She had finally bought that new armor, and it fit her like a glove. It really felt like a second skin and the biotic boost was really noticeable, unlike her previous N7 custom. She also had indulged in a new stabilizer for her M-4 Shuriken. The thing was light and easy to move with, which she valued very highly since she tended to biotic-charge all over the place, but it had the accuracy of a drunken Volus. And with all her new toys, she had to admit she had enjoyed the burst of efficiency. She hadn't succeeded in hiding the satisfied grin that had taken up residence on her face as the Cerberus idiots dropped like flies.

Yep, it had been a productive day.

She was relieved to see Garrus back to his normal self too, throwing well-placed jibes back to the few Salarians that thought their biased opinions were relevant. She couldn't help but smirk at the memory. Oh, she had missed his wit during those six long months under arrest.

She had been worried about the possible after-effects of their little hypnosis session when he had disappeared for the most part of shore leave, but as soon as the crew was notified of their new mission, he was back and as ready as ever. She figured he had a lot of work with the fifth fleet's shipment. She never had the time to ask. Now was probably a good time to, since the trip to the Aralakh System was long enough anyway, and her report was currently refusing to write itself, no matter how hard she would frown at it.

She got up and headed to the elevator.

Yeah, the day had been perfect until the Primarch asked for her help with a Turian ship on a secret mission on that radioactive pile of rubble that was Tuchanka. She actually liked the guy, they were more or less cut from the same cloth, species differences aside. They shared the same love for politics and he was pragmatic. So why the secrecy around that ship? Didn't he trust her? She never thought he, of all people, wouldn't see that keeping information like this on a mission was a massive source of danger, and avoidable danger is something they certainly didn't need with an army of Reapers around. She hated blind spots with passion.

Finally in the elevator, she presses the crew deck button.

There's something fundamentally wrong about that mission, and she has a feeling she won't like what she will find there one bit. And why, with all the upgrades the Normandy has undergone over the years, is this damn elevator still infuriatingly slow?

She finally reaches the crew deck and exits the lift like it was on fire. She absently waves at the two soldiers chatting at the mess table around a cup of instant coffee as she walks towards the main battery. Smith and Mull... Mool... what was it again? It had sounded German. She really should start memorizing the names of everyone.

When the door opens, Garrus can't help jumping slightly. Of course she would come see him at some point. Not that he's not happy she does, but with what happened last time they were in a room alone, he can't help being a bit wary, and he hates it. He's had enough time to think since that day, but he still remains on his toes. He had decided he didn't really resent her for the nick on his trust, since it seems it helped her more than he had thought at first. She has been smiling more since then, and despite how messed up the situation is, he's glad he's the reason for it. She even looked like a kid in a toy store while fighting on Sur'Kesh. If this is the result, he doesn't mind playing along.

It's still nerve wracking. He has to be extremely careful not to give himself away. He has spent a lot of time trying to condition himself to react immediately to her trigger words. He still isn't sure he'll be able to make it look natural, but he knows she wouldn't do it in public. That should help.

He turns around, trying to stop thinking too much.

"Shepard. Had fun with your new toys today?"

"Lots!" She grins. "You sure you don't want that new Mantis I told you about? The guy told me you could try before you buy, they have a small shooting range at the back of the store."

"Well, maybe I'll give it a shot when we're back. I still like mine though."

"Yeah, yeah. You know you want it. It's apparently fully compatible with your old mods too. Besides, after outsmarting those morons on Sur'Kesh, I kinda want to spoil you. You really made my day, big guy. That was golden." She crosses her arms and smirks.

He remembers the grimace on her face as she tried her best not to snort. They had been close to causing serious offense there. He regrets nothing though. He always loves those moments of complicity between them. He chuckles.

"Heh, I knew you couldn't resist my sense of humor, but you shouldn't buy a Turian's heart with state-of-the-art weaponry, you know? That's cheating." He crosses his arms and leans on the console.

"Really? Expensive guns?" She laughs. "You guys are pretty high maintenance, all it takes is food to win a Human man's heart."

"Well that's cheap." He gives her a mock incredulous look. "For your sake, I hope quality and price are not directly proportional."

"You're an ass." She grins.

"That's part of my charm," he says, mandibles flaring.

Time to change topics though. As much as she enjoys those ambiguous moments between them, when they're walking a fine line between friendly and flirty, she's never comfortable with the fact that if she's not careful, she might give away... things she's not exactly willing to acknowledge herself.

"Whatever you say. Speaking of the Citadel, I forgot to ask, did you finally get the rations shipment?"

"Yeah. It took some time to secure it and set up a distribution protocol. Remember the medical shipment issue the other day? When a group of mercs stole almost a fifth of the supplies? We had to take extra precaution to avoid a repeat, and it took a lot of men and time. Still better than feeding the black market though." His face betrays the anger he still felt towards the bastards.

"Yeah, that sucked. Good to hear it went well this time." Her eyebrows were slightly raised in an understanding gesture.

"Tell me about it. By the way, why exactly are we going to Tuchanka? Not that I haven't missed the beauty of its landscapes or the warm smiles of the natives, but I don't remember seeing that on your to-do list, since you do the negotiating on neutral grounds."

"That, you'd have to ask the Primarch." She frowns. "All I know is that there's a Turian ship on a very very secret mission that crashed there and it's very very important. And apparently I'm not worthy enough to be spared the risk of going blind."

"I see. I don't like that either. I can try to talk to him if you want me to. And I'd like to tag along if you're ok with that."

"I was counting on your presence, don't worry about that. You can try to worm details out of him if you have the opportunity, I could use some. In any case, I'll brief everyone tomorrow afternoon. We should arrive during the night. Though it will be around midday there. You might want to take a nap before we gear up."

"Noted." He nods.

There's a short silence when they simply look at each other with understanding and determination. Then, completely out of the blue, Shepard says those dreaded words.

"Dive now."

Spirits.

He immediately drops his shoulders and slightly lowers his head, his eyelids drooping and his arms sliding back to his sides. He expected it, but the violent change of pace makes him dizzy. On the edge of his unfocused vision, he can see her face softening. He braces himself and wills his heart to calm down.

She spends a minute just standing there, her face unreadable.

Then, she steps right in front of him and raises her arms. Her hands slowly reach his face, sitting softly on his jaw, lightly stroking his mandibles with her thumbs. She quietly explores his face, the texture of his plates, the surprising smoothness if his mandibles. Her eyes seem to scan the rest of his face, not even omitting a square centimeter, like a child seeing a Turian for the first time and having finally gotten over their initial shyness. Her gestures are almost reverent, and speak of a fascination he never would have guessed was there. What is it that she sees there, really, aside from mangled hide and scar tissue? He tries not to think too hard about the state of his right side, refusing to let the self-consciousness he had finally managed to keep at bay come back roaring and make him flinch.

Breathe in, breathe out, focus on nothing. His broken appearance never mattered to her, no need to get jumpy. She's not a Turian. She won't judge.

Her hands slowly slide to the back of his neck, as she presses forward and tilts her head to the left and brushes her cheek on the right side of his face. Then, she turns towards him and presses a soft peck on the scarred hide of his mandible.

His eyes widen so fast that momentarily feel like they could pop out of their sockets. However, he doesn't have the time to analyze what just happened before she whispers in his ear.

"Garrus, hold me."

He doesn't hesitate one bit. He raises his hands to her sides and brushes them against her waist – was it always this narrow? - as he wraps his arms around her. As he finally pulls her body against his and buries his face in the crook of her neck, she does something he never imagined coming from her. She moans.

That immediately sends his senses into overdrive and he inhales without thinking. She smells like their cheap Alliance issue washing powder, the flowery fragrance of her soap and something very Human and very hers underneath. He suddenly feels light headed. He can't think straight. What exactly is going on?

He can feel her breath tickling his neck as she lets out a heavy sigh and this time, he can't suppress the little shiver that travels down his spine. He barely finds the strength to tighten his throat and repress the purr that threatens to spill out.

"Ah... that feels so good. I needed that."

He can't find any reason to disagree. It certainly feels even better than he ever thought it would. Human hugs. Or is this more than just a hug? Is it common practice to moan and kiss, or is he right when he feels an intimacy that probably shouldn't be there?

"And there I thought I would never get to feel that again... just melting in the embrace of someone dear to me. I bet no one thinks I need tenderness at all... Commander fucking Shepard doesn't do tender, right? They barely see me as a Human being anymore." She doesn't even sound angry, just relaxed and tired. "But guess what Garrus, I'm still a woman." She inhales deeply, taking his scent in too, surprising him.

It hits him like a ton of bricks. Of course she's a female, and she has needs too. He feels a pang of guilt for not seeing that. He knew, in the theoretical part of his brain, that she was a woman, but the "commander" and "best friend" had been so important to him that he ended up forgetting that her fears and pains were not the only things she repressed, deep down. He realizes he never saw her with a man.

He had seen guys trying to seduce her a long time ago, but she always ignored their advances. It was probably too complicated since everybody already knew who and what she was, and she probably wasn't ready to risk losing anyone because of that. And as fame turned her into something more, something not Human anymore, people stopped trying altogether. He had had little time to get intimate with anyone as of late himself, but he still had opportunities once in a while, the last being on Menae and it already feels ages ago. So what does that say about her? Humans have a higher sense of modesty when it comes to physical intimacy, and it somehow makes it worse. How can she still function properly while not answering her body's calls anymore? She had to feel them still, and if her current behavior was any indication, they were starting to get hard to handle.

And to think he had mock flirted with her so many times. Those jokes didn't seem so funny now.

Realizing that the woman in his arms, the friend he thought he knew so well, did have a sex drive too really caught him by surprise, but it shouldn't have, in retrospect. Feeling her body, warm and firm against him, he wonders why he had never seen her under that light. Sure, he had never considered any kind of interspecies intercourse, he was perfectly content with Turians and never was particularly aroused by aliens. But this, what they had, was so much more. They had a special kind of bond that transcended friendship, and physical intimacy seemed like a small detail that should have come naturally. It never was about sex, but as he sometimes felt that there was a continuum between both their spirits, materializing it somehow should have been expected.

He can feel his pelvic plates shift slightly when she sighs again against the sensitive hide of his neck.

Spirits, he's in trouble.

Before he can calm his burning nerves and think of naked Elcors and Hanar poetry, she starts disentangling herself from his embrace.

"Haa... I feel so much better. I wish I had the strength to share that with you properly."

You have no idea.

"I wish I weren't such a coward..." She says bitterly.

What does that make me?

"I've already taken too much of your time." She was back to her previous spot.

Clap clap.

His eyes focus back on her, and he fought hard not to look like a pyjak in the headlights.

"Be careful with the Primarch, though, he seems much more personally involved in this than he lets on. You might want to tread carefully when you broach the subject."

It takes him a couple of seconds to put his mind back on track and parse what she just said.

"Yeah... huh... you're probably right. I'll be careful. Having served under him will probably help a little though. I know he trusts me to some extent." He absently rubs the back of his neck.

"You do that." She sighs yet again. "I gotta go. As much as I'd rather stay with you here, I still have that report to write. And you're probably busy too." She vaguely waves at the console.

"You know me. Knock when you come down for dinner?"

"Sure" She grins. "See you then."

When the door finally swooshes closed behind her, he collapses on the ground and leans his back on the console behind him. This is seriously getting out of hand. How far is she willing to get? She hasn't showed any sign of actually wanting to get in his pants, and he's grateful for that. If she had, then he would have seriously misjudged her. He doesn't want to think she would want to take advantage of him that way. But what if she does bring whatever this is to that level?

He finds himself not caring as much as he should, and it worries him.


	5. Cope

Garrus was exhausted. Tuchanka had been intense. Both physically and mentally.

Learning the existence of that giant nuclear bomb had pissed everyone off in varying amounts, and it had put a notable strain on the crew's general mood. That hadn't been a pleasant experience. Disarming it on time had been stressful enough already. The worst part was that he couldn't bring himself to direct his anger toward Victus. He knew that even though his son gave his life for the mission and the greater good, which would make any Turian father proud, seeing your flesh and blood die before you do was always a crushing tragedy.

And they had to carry all that weight during what came next.

While they were dealing with the ninth platoon, swarming Reaper units and the bomb, Mordin did wonders in the lab. The cure had finally been completed and stabilized, so they could start the mission to deliver it right away. The sooner they were done with that poor excuse for a planet, the better.

They never expected it would involve both a full size Reaper and the biggest and nastiest thresher maw that ever existed. At once.

They never thought it would be the last time they would see the crazy doctor's smile. He had survived so much already.

They were on their way back to the Citadel for a much needed few days of shore leave. The crew had been so shaken by the recent events that on the first day, barely anyone talked in the ship. She had never felt so silent. He could remember noticing hums and clicks he had never paid attention to before, especially in the most frequented areas. It had felt surreal, lonely.

Thankfully, it didn't last. A good night's sleep can't make memories and scars disappear, but it helps speed up the coping process. The next morning, life was back on board. People gradually fell back into their in-flight routine, and chatting could be heard again everywhere. And in no time, here he was, sat at the mess table, idly sipping on a Tupari can, absently listening to Liara and Cortez chatting from the other side of the table. Liara was initially explaining what she knew about Prothean space flight, but he had stopped listening a while ago, losing himself in his own thoughts.

It's nice, to have a feeling of calm and normalcy after surviving that kind of shitstorm. It's one of those times when he sees boring under a new light and he surprises himself welcoming it. Not for too long though. He never tolerated boring very well in the long run. He's a man of action, and the fact that it gave him too much time to get distressed over his missing family and burning home world was seriously starting to eat away at him.

That's why, after two days of almost too much normal, he decided to booby-trap Shepard's desk.

It had been more than a week since their last "session" and the more time he had to think about it, the less worried he was. Surely, he had been overthinking her words. After all, they were close enough for her to be comfortable with admitting to wanting or needing physical intimacy if it were to be the case, right? Then again, she obviously needed hugs and never asked. Humans were so complicated. Or maybe it just was the lack of subharmonics that made it complicated, and he was probably missing a lot of Human nonverbal subtleties there.

In any case, when boredom wouldn't seem so welcome anymore, he remembered it technically was his turn to prank her, since his last prank was not much of a prank anymore. If he wanted to cover his ass properly, he needed to put the wool over her eyes and carry on with their little tradition.

Besides, it's way too much fun to let die. He can't help but smirk. He had had to work fast, taking advantage of the twenty minutes it took for Chakwas to kidnap Shepard for a quick physiotherapy session to set it all up without her knowing. Thank the Spirits for minor wrist sprains. It was sloppy work, but it would have to do. He's pretty sure he did a good job at avoiding anyone noticing too. Well, except for EDI, but the poor IA had stopped trying to report them to one another along with trying to understand how increasing stress levels, albeit momentarily, could also reduce them at the same time. Scanning the whole extranet hadn't really helped much aside from providing countless examples and a few cold facts.

He sips on his drink again, wondering when she would finally need to open her top drawer. It shouldn't take too long now. He absently wonders if the rest of the crew would resent him for the hurricane that was about to barge in, bringing fear and destruction in its wake.

Meh. It was the Normandy after all. Knowing how to deal with crazy commanding officers and weird crewmates was in the job description. He couldn't really bring himself to be sorry.

The elevator doors finally open to heavy running footsteps and Krogan grade roaring.

"VAAAAKAAAAAARIAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

Liara and Cortez turn around in shock, and the sight that meets them has their eyes widen in disbelief and their respective jaws on the floor. Right behind them is standing Commander Shepard, hair disheveled, upper body covered in white dust, slightly bent in anger, on hand in a tight fist and a strange contraption with a bobbing spring held tight in the other.

Garrus slowly stands up, can in hand, in case she would decide to beat him up with what's left of the trap. He still looks relaxed and way too pleased with himself, but is now ready to run should the need arise.

"Shepard, need me for something?" He tilts his head to the side innocently.

Oh, the cocky son of a bitch.

"Don't you fucking dare 'need me for something' me, you sneaky bastard! Flour? Really, Garrus? Couldn't you do any messier? You literally repainted my cabin in white!" she bellows, vaguely wagging her free arm upwards.

"I remember you saying the new interior design could use some lighter colors. You're so lucky to have me on bo-" He's interrupted by having to dodge the contraption she suddenly throws at him. He can hear it hit the bulkhead and the "eep" from Gabby who had been frozen in place and in disbelief somewhere behind him, standing a bit too close to the point of impact for comfort. Welp, maybe a little sorry after all.

"Ok, shutting up now." He raises his free arm in surrender, but cannot help a big toothy Turian smile from betraying how satisfied he was with his victory.

She's starting to struggle to stay angry as a smirk threatens to worm its way to her face. She's still pissed, there's no denying that. But she can't help finding the situation hilarious. That was a good one, she'll give him that. Overused but well done. And just trying to imagine what she must look like at the moment is almost enough for her to burst out laughing, but she keeps a straight face. Barely.

"Go clean your mess, right fucking now!" She briskly points towards the elevator. "And I want my desk area completely flour-less by the time I'm done showering!"

He immediately starts walking towards the kitchen area with a mock salute and a "Yes, m'am!" to throw his empty can away and get cleaning supplies, under the silent stares of his gaping crewmates.

They meet in the elevator, where she had kept the door open from him. After a few seconds of silence, she feels her face finally twitching with the smirk she can't contain anymore.

"Nice one," she admits, still staring at the door.

"I know," he answers, not moving either, still proudly standing with the vacuum cleaner in hand.

"You're impossible." She snorts.

"You'd be bored without me," he deadpans.

"Whatever." She finally exits the lift, opens the room and goes straight to her wardrobe to get a change of clothes and hide her wide grin.


	6. Crave

The first thing she sees upon exiting the bathroom, hair damp and flour free, is a spotless desk. Damn, the smartass vacuumed as fast as he could dismantle a sniper rifle. Not that she was complaining. She barely tolerated her own mess already, she didn't need any extra, thank you very much. She walks to her drawers and slowly opens the one that exploded to her face, warily glancing inside only to see its previous contents back, as if nothing ever happened.

She closes the drawer and walks down the small set of stairs to find the vacuum cleaner against the aquarium and a very relaxed Garrus sprawled in the far corner of the sofa. His hands are entwined behind his neck, his head slightly bent backwards, eyes closed, and an ankle propped on the opposite knee. How he could unwind so easily in heavy armor was beyond her.

She leans back on one leg and crosses her arms, and can't help checking him out. How can she possibly stay angry? This Turian's natural charm should be registered as a military grade weapon. She frowns. It's fucking unfair. She wished she had on him half the effect he has on her.

"Stop the smug act, Vakarian, I know you heard me coming."

"Shepard. Enjoyed your shower?" He lowers his head to look at her and smirks.

"Sure, 'cause I have nothing better to do than shower twice in less than three hours." She rolls her eyes.

"Heh, at least your shoulder won't hurt for three consecutive days."

"Still sore about that?" She grins. "Not my fault if you literally throw your heavy self on you cot."

She moves to sit next to him, a leg folded under her thigh and an elbow resting on the back of the sofa. He frown at her and crosses his arms.

"I had to weld it at bloody 0130. You should be grateful I cleaned your desk at all."

"Yeah, yeah, I am. I kinda needed that too. Y'know, with what happened." A half smile shyly pulls at her lips.

He can't help but agree. He did it for the very same reason after all. He just doubts the rest of the crew shares their unusual ways of coping with stress and pressure.

"Did you really have to traumatize the crew though? I swear poor Gaby turned paler than you were. And there was no white powder involved." He flicks his mandibles in reproach.

"I know, right?" She snickered. "I'll go check on her, I promise."

"Good."

"You gotta admit, that was priceless." She smirks.

"Sure was." He smirks back.

"You'll still pay for that, you know it, right?" She tries to look angry but does a poor job at it.

"I wouldn't expect any less from you, Commander," he singsongs in challenge.

After a couple of seconds of exchanging knowing looks, she can't take it anymore. The more she gets to touch him, the less she's able to resist the pull for long. This is seriously turning into an addiction. It's sickening and unhealthy on so many levels, but it feels like she has no control on her own actions anymore. It's terrifying and exhilarating at once.

"Dive now."

Ah. She did it again.

She watches his head drop and his arm unfold right away, much like last time, and feels the now familiar guilt showing its ugly head. Seriously, having so much power on anyone should be illegal, and doing that to your best friend is even more morally questionable. As much as she knows she needs that like the addict she is, it still leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

At least, she'll make sure to treat him well, with as much respect as it is still possible in those kind of circumstances. Besides, she knows from her readings that you cannot ask anything that goes against the principles of the subject under hypnosis, it just wouldn't work. Even in that state, they still have boundaries.

All things considered, it's just a matter of her refusing to voice things she was sure would make things awkward between when he's awake. Even though she's now sure he wouldn't be offended if she asked for some physical contact, that doesn't mean she's ready for what would come out of it. Surely he would start to suspect things and ask questions, and she's not exactly ready to stir up what it involved in her heart, especially since it would most likely lead to some sort of polite rejection. So much nope. She doesn't want to know.

Even Commander Shepard can't be fearless all the time. And she's determined to keep what little is left of her heart in one piece.

She feels pathetic nonetheless.

The pull is unbearable now, she feels empty inside, starving in a way she had never felt before, burning with the certainty that only the Turian next to her could fill that void. Half aware of her actions, she scoots closer to him and puts a hand on his thigh.

"Garrus, let me sit on your lap." Her voice is soft, almost pleading despite the ordering tone of the sentence.

He slowly unfolds his legs and raises his arms invitingly towards her. Her eyes widen and she can feel her heart doing things in her chest she's pretty sure it's not supposed to. She takes a deep breath and slowly rises enough to place her hands on his shoulders for support and move to straddle him.

While she settles on his lap, he struggles to keep his breathing even. When she asked for his lap, he hadn't expected such a... provocative position. What if he had been right? What now? Having her on his lap like this was doing things to him and he has a hard time focusing on his act. What should he do with his hands? He could not possibly let them hang in the air. They twitch with the urge to place them on her waist. No, not there. It would make things worse, especially if he hadn't read her right. But wait, Human waists are not... whatever, a waist is still a waist to him and he can't let himself be unnecessarily distracted. And after last time, he knew touching hers was... rather distracting indeed and his groin plates are already dangerously shifting enough as it is. He settles with placing them awkwardly around the top of her thighs and trying not to think about how strong they feel, even through the thick fabric of his gloves.

As she finally finds a comfortable position, she heaves a long sigh, closing her eyes and sliding her hands a little lower on the cowl of his armor. She can feel the heat of his hands on her legs and she shudders. She doesn't know if it's the sight of him casually sprawled on the sofa looking charming and confident, the feel of his hands on her or the close proximity of specific body parts, but it slowly dawns on her how much she wants him and how loud her own body is screaming for more. She had been perfectly aware that her affection for him went well beyond friendship for a long time and included an undeniable physical attraction but, that? Such a powerful, burning physical craving, hitting her without warning like an orbital strike? For a Turian to boot? Not that she was a xenophobe in any way, shape or form, but she never had felt any desire to look for bed partners outside of her own species before either, so that really was coming out of left field. Shit. She softly bangs her head on the side of his cowl and groans.

Garrus lifts a brow plate at her actions. Did he do something wrong? She seemed perfectly comfortable until...

What the hell?

He softly inhales the air to make sure he's not mistaken. Yep, still there. He can distinctly identify it now. There's a scent emanating from her he never smelt around her before. Had he not been previously exposed to it, he would probably never have recognized it for what it was, but he had enough experience with Humans, on the Normandy, the Citadel and even Omega to connect the dots easily.

Spirits, she's aroused.

And not just a little if the growing intensity of the scent and the subtle tremors in her leg muscles are any indication.

His eyes widen and his heart rate spikes and it's all he can do not to tighten his grip on her. This is not Turian arousal pheromones, it shouldn't affect him. So why does it? Maybe sometimes conceptualizing things can make them just as powerful as basic natural reflexes after all. But why doesn't matter right now. Even the damn Reapers start not mattering much anymore as his brain is slowly reduced to an incoherent blob of inert mud by his inexorable reaction to this strong and beautiful female's obvious physical attraction to him.

He feels his plates widen all the way and has to slightly buck his hips to let himself spring free without getting painfully stuck in the folds of his undersuit, and almost lets out a whimper. He manages to get in a position that wouldn't damage anything, but it still feels extremely uncomfortable. So he stays immobile, back tense, eyes closed tight, as silent as he possibly can, waiting for whatever she's going to do next. Is she going to ask for more? In the state he is now, he's probably going to be unable to refuse her and will give himself away in the process. Spirits, he even wants it to happen, screw consequences.

This is dangerous.

He blinks his eyes open, trying to restore some semblance of connection with reality through the thick fog of his own arousal and rising panic. What is he thinking? Did she notice his squirming? Thank goodness for heavy armor that conceals everything. Breathe, think about the Council. Hackett. Wrex. Baby Krogans. Yeah, that. Might as well get used to the idea already after all.

She starts shifting back to her previous sitting position, having finally managed to calm herself down a notch. His armor must feel awkward enough as it is, surely her added weight is not necessary. Squirming rarely is a sign of comfort. Besides, she's reached her quota of selfishness for the day already. She slightly tilts her head backwards, rolling her eyes at her own behavior and overdue inner epiphanies.

"Fuck. I'm such an idiot." She leans in and softly rests her forehead on his, closing her eyes and sighing.

After a few seconds, she carefully gets up and sits back to her original spot on the sofa, Garrus just stares ahead, flabbergasted. Does she have any idea what that gesture means to him? He knows Humans have many ways of expressing affection, so would this translate properly? He was pretty sure the equivalent would be kissing. Shit, he's thinking too much again, right? But wasn't he right last time he did?

He's starting to worry about his sanity.

Clap clap.

"EDI, where is Daniels at the moment?"

"She is currently in Engineering with Lieutenant Adams."

"Thanks."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

She turns to Garrus with a strained smile, getting his attention back to the Normandy, reality, and what was going on again, before they went back to the twilight zone?

"I'm going to check on Gaby." She stands and points her thumb towards the exit. "I'll probably stay for a little while and chat with Adams too, he wanted to talk to me about that new upgrade for the thrusters he suggested we acquire." She nervously rubs the back of her head. "So yeah, you can make yourself at home and wait for me, you still have some Horosk left in that bottle, so... or you can go back to calibrating big guns, and I'll check on you later, okay?" She starts walking backwards. "I'll ping you when I'm done."

She waves at him and makes a beeline for the elevator. She promptly calls it and waits for the slow piece of junk. Smooth, Shepard. Real smooth. She leans forward and softly bangs her head on the door. She totally ran away. There's no other way to look at it. She tilts her head backwards and sighs. Now she needs a third shower. Fucking fantastic. She briefly considers using the common showers since there's a Turian between her and her own bathroom. Nope, too many people around at this time of the day. The doors finally open and she slams her fist on the fourth deck button with a frown. Time to stop acting like a hormonal teenager. She has a job to do and an engineer to apologize to.

Meanwhile, a stunned Turian heaves a sigh of relief for not having to use his voice for the next few minutes. And having finally loosened the codpiece of his armor. That too. And did a horny Shepard seriously just said something about calibrating big guns?


	7. Shun

Garrus was running unit tests for the umpteenth time on his latest version of the Normandy's firing algorithms when the message was broadcast to the whole ship. It took him a whole minute before Shepard's words fully registered. She was known for being reckless, but that certainly was taking the cake. Going on Omega alone to help the Ice Queen reconquer her bloody rock? This couldn't be happening. Not now.

Their relationship, whatever it was now, had been tense since the day she left him hot and bonered in her quarters with nothing to do but begging all the Spirits to give him the strength to look her in the eye the next time they talk. Thankfully, or regretfully depending on how he looked at it, there hadn't been a lot of opportunities to test that strength. She had put a lot of effort to avoid him as much as possible without being obvious about it.

At first, he really couldn't blame her. He didn't have to try hard to walk in her shoes, he was feeling awkward enough about it himself. She didn't need to know that, though. But what surprised him was the magnitude of her reaction. She had raised her walls high enough to hide the sun, and not just before him. Everyone else had sensed her foul mood and raised hackles during the whole trip back to the Citadel and had remained on their toes around her. That hadn't been comfortable for anyone.

It had given him a lot of opportunities to think, since he pretty much secluded himself in the main battery to avoid the storm. And the results were disconcerting.

The first thing that surprised him was the realization that she didn't just need any sort of physical release. She wanted it from him specifically. She wanted him. There was no way she would have gotten in such an extreme state of arousal otherwise, especially if she never showed any sign of wanting to get in anyone's pants beside him. The Turian in him was surprised and humbled at the thought. Ever since he tried to stop a rocket with his teeth, the number of potential bed partners had dwindled. His species does not exactly think highly of scarred plating, it was often seen as a sign of weakness, failure or just disreputable company. He even overheard people say he looked like a mercenary with thinly veiled disdain. He never paid too much attention to those words since he had better to do, but his self-confidence still took a bad hit, and the dry spell had been a bit hard on him. Until fame broke it. That had been an unexpected and welcome side effect of the Reapers' arrival. At least, something positive came out of it.

However, the friend in him couldn't deny that, in retrospect, it had been a long time coming. Their bond had been strong enough to make it natural, but there had been a lot of things clouding his judgment.

His own insecurities, he now realized, had played a great role in it, but not only that. There had been a certain sense of comfort coming from the status quo of their friendship, and maybe they had relied too much on it as one of the last secure landmarks they had left with the whole galaxy turning itself upside down, to the point where they began taking it for granted. Along the way, he forgot that relationships are not carved in stone, they naturally evolve as people live and grow.

Besides, he didn't have to squint very hard to see remnants of hero worship in him that their close friendship never quite managed to wash away entirely. It usually doesn't encourage anyone to consider fraternization to be possible at all. And Shepard being... well, Shepard, she tended to naturally push this kind of bias to the extreme. He knew perfectly well it was the reason no one dared hit on her anymore, but he really felt an idiot for not having realized before that he was not immune to it either.

But the one thing that probably had had the biggest influence in the matter was the Elcor in the room he was still a bit reluctant to address. She was Human. It probably explained a lot of things on her side, since they are much more reserved sexually and generally don't think sex between friends is a good idea, although he had learned exceptions existed. But it also led him to his next big surprise, which had more to do with what he thought he knew about himself.

He had never had any desire for a different species, and he certainly didn't have a Human fetish. So why had his reaction been so strong? No, strong didn't even begin to cut it. It had been violent. He was out of his plates before he realized what was going on. That hadn't happened to him since basic. It had taken such a tremendous amount of self-restraint to remain somewhat silent and immobile he still wonders how he pulled that one off. He could still feel the strong muscles of her thighs twitching against the palms of his hands and her scent had haunted him for days.

There was no denying it now. He wanted her. Badly.

Still, somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder if that desire would survive seeing her bare body. Would it end up putting him off? Would it open his eyes to a new kind of beauty he never was acquainted with? He was running in the dark on pure instinct and it was scary, but he wanted to know. Needed to know.

Right before they reached their destination, he made a resolution. With his newly acquired knowledge, he was pretty sure she would not reject him if he made a move towards her, but he had to be extremely cautious about it. She had her own insecurities and he had to take them into consideration. He was convinced they were the reason why she never expressed her interest in the first place, so it could be extremely tricky. But if he succeeded, it could very well be a safe way out of the clusterfuck they threw themselves into the day they thought experimenting on hypnosis was a good idea. Thus, he started planning ways to hint at his own interest without making the change in his behavior too obvious. He had planned on spending as much time with her as he could during shore leave, and starting by making her comfortable around him again.

The next step, however, was going to be much harder.

His experience in wooing women is close to none. When faced with someone he's interested in bedding, he's clumsy on a good day. He never really had to work on that, since his looks were pretty good by Turian standards. Well, until the gunship incident, that is. He usually goes with the flow, lets the ladies do the hard work until he can just let instincts and desires take over. It's easier not to make a fool of himself that way. Now, however, he regrets his laziness. Forget subtlety, how is he supposed to seduce a Human when he doesn't even know where to start with a Turian?

He never had the opportunity to answer that question though, his musings came to a screeching halt when they reached the Citadel and discovered that the Illusive Asshole had decided that staging a coup d'état would be a good thing.

It was brutal.

C-Sec lost so many good officers that day. He could name at least a dozen former colleagues who lost their lives during the assault, and it hurt. A lot. It's one thing to get casualties reports where people are reduced to faceless numbers, but remembering parts of your life you shared with so many people who died on the same day, almost right before your eyes, was a whole new level of painful. And for what? He didn't even want to know at this point.

As if her mood wasn't bad enough, Shepard was pissed beyond reason upon witnessing the disaster. She went into her dreaded "alpha bitch mode" as Vega so colorfully put it, and had been a hairbreadth away from shooting Alenko. Not that he would have minded much, the Major had severely plummeted in his estimation on Horizon, but Liara managed to defuse the situation as gracefully as the circumstances had permitted. How she could be so composed in extreme situations like that was beyond him.

Needless to say, shore leave was canceled. At some point during the fight, they received reports of Cerberus activity on Benning and Noveria that needed immediate attention, so after a lightning fast restocking they were back to business. He half-suspected Shepard rushed there to try and work off her anger on more Cerberus goons to shoot. It wouldn't surprise him if she did, he would have done the same.

However, he didn't get to see if it worked out since she didn't bring him for any of the ground teams. Noveria, he could understand and he wasn't complaining, since he was not exactly eager to set foot on that bloody pile of ice again. Not exactly Turian-friendly. But Benning had been a surprise for everyone. She hadn't left him on the ship for a very long time, and it typically was the kind of mission where she favored his battle skills.

That was too odd to go unnoticed. She was actively shunning him.

As a result, he had spent two days like a lion in a cage with too much time on his hands. Even his frequent contacts with the Hierarchy and his calibrations hadn't managed to keep him busy enough to avoid going nuts with worry and restlessness. Shepard avoiding everyone and glaring daggers at everything including inanimate objects while in flight was bad enough already, but knowing she was out there, dodging bullets and flirting with death without him was seriously putting him on edge.

Spirits, when had he started to have this little faith in her abilities? That was Shepard, not some random grunt. She had fought a baby Reaper and a thresher maw on foot, for crying out loud.

He seriously had some steam to blow off.

And now that they were finally on their way back to the Citadel for some overdue shore leave, she wanted them to drop her at Aria's fleet on their way and take mandatory leave for an undefined amount of time, as if nothing happened?

That was too much.

So here he is, almost running all the way to the War Room, hell bent on making her see reason. There are close to Aria's fleet now, and he doesn't have a lot of time left. He needs to talk to her now, crabby Commander or not.

Right when he reaches the door at the back of the conference room, the door swooshes open revealing a scowling Shepard, all geared up, who just passes him by without so much as a glance. He turns around, lifting a hand towards her without really aiming to touch, and follows her brisk pace.

"Shepard, wait!" She doesn't slow down in the slightest. "I'm coming with you!"

"No you're not." She says flatly, still walking.

"Are you out of your mind? This is Aria we're talking about! Even if there are no trap included, she won't hesitate to take unnecessary risks to get what she wants. Do we really need that now?" He's not even sure who exactly he's including in that "we" right now.

She abruptly stops right before the door to the galaxy map and he almost bumps into her. She turns around and pierces him with a hard and resolute stare he hardly ever sees on her out of a battlefield. Having that look directed at him unexpectedly does funny things to him. He suddenly feels much smaller, and much, much hotter.

"You still can't take orders you don't like worth shit, can you? And here I thought you'd be the first to understand what exactly is at stake here. We need Aria's men and resources and you know it. And you should also be perfectly aware of the reason why you..." She pokes him hard in the chest. "…of all people are not exactly welcome on this mission. She'd have you thrown out the nearest airlock without a second thought and I need you on the Citadel. So you're going to stay here, take your to-do list from Traynor like everyone else, head there, do your job, and take time off. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," he answers stiffly.

"Good."

As she turns around again, he suddenly grasps her arm, effectively stopping her in her tracks. He can feel her stiffen under his hand.

"Just… be careful." He releases her arm quickly, as if it had burnt him.

"Yeah," she mutters softly above her shoulder before opening the door and nodding to the guards on her way.

He stays there for a while, unmoving, even after the automatic door closed itself.

After a minute, he suddenly turns towards the bulkhead on his left and punches it hard with a sharp growl, with the same hand that was on her arm a moment ago. Not moving his fist from the point of impact, he sighs and curses softly. He really needed to get his shit together. Unwind, hard. And with violence, preferably. He could do that on the Citadel. Shore leave sounded a lot better all of a sudden.

He goes straight back to the main battery, half acknowledging his urge to pout and the wide-eyed stares of the two guards who undoubtedly heard the loud bang. She had a point there, as much as he didn't like it. He still couldn't help the sickening feeling that this could very well be their last words to each other. Upon reaching the confines of his den, he immediately locks the door and sits on a nearby crate, elbows on his knees and cradling his face in his hands. He grunts softly. He really needs to stop that train of thoughts right now.

He rubs his face and straightens. At least they exchanged more than tree words this time. He lifts the hand that had grabbed her arm and looks at it pensively, trying to remember the feel of her muscles under his palm, how he felt her stiffen under his touch. He had crossed a line there, and he was unharmed. That means her anger had simmered down somehow. Good. She was still awfully tense though.

He remembers the hard stare she gave him and feels a chill travel down his spine to land in unexpected places. It had been ages since the last time she went all Commander on him. It never failed to intimidate him, and this time is no exception. She has that innate authority that commands respect without even trying. She's a natural born leader with a rare strength that translates seamlessly between species, the kind of strength that could make any Krogan pause. However, that thrill he felt at that moment was new. Did that seriously turn him on? By the rising heat of his body and the way his pelvic plate have felt slightly lax since then, he has no choice but to admit that the obvious answer is yes.

He realizes what it is and instantly knows it's bad news.

He knows of Turians who like it violent in the sack, but he never was one of them. Sure, he never was against a little rough sex, but as long as both parties remained in control and didn't try to constantly outdo one another to the point where actual harm could be done. He never had felt that urge. Until now. The primal Turian in him could feel how strong that female was and how much she could take, and couldn't refrain that dangerous, playful urge to compete with her in very, very close quarters.

He shivers again.

The heat becomes unbearable, and after a quick glance at the door to check the lock, he quickly removes the top of his armor and sits back down. He puts his hands on his knees and exhales loudly. Still hot. He briefly considers removing his undersuit as well, but instead, his hands unclasp his codpiece with unnecessary force and open the flap of fabric below. He reaches inside to stroke the seam of his plates with his middle finger and absently notices the gap is wider than he anticipated.

It doesn't take him long to fully emerge. All it takes is the memory of her hard stare, the curve of her armored waist and the sway of her hips while she walked in front of him. How is he supposed to focus on anything every time he stands behind her from now on? Spirits that was going to be hard.

His hand wraps itself around the base of his shaft and he heaves a loud sigh, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. As he starts stroking himself, he remembers the time they hugged each other against the console, how her breath would tickle his neck, how her soft spoken voice resonated in him, how the smell of her neck washed over him like a cool breeze on a summer night in the lush gardens of Cipritine, the heady feeling of weightlessness it elicited in him. He feels the muscles of his abdomen spasm ever so slightly and speeds up the rhythm of his hand.

He can picture himself in her quarters, back when she was almost trembling with arousal on his lap, and wonders what would have happened if he had let his hands go where they were itching to. They would have gone straight to her waist, reveling in the soft curve if it, so unlike a Turian but so strong and elegant and oh so tempting. Spirits, he was sure he could almost circle it with his hands. He shudders and lets out a long, shaky breath.

He would have pulled her closer, grinding the very source of that haunting, heady scent against his codpiece in a hopeless attempt to get some form of release. And what if there had been no hard, unforgiving armor plating between them? How would have she felt against him? She had felt so warm through the lighter fabric of his gloves, how would have her whole body felt against him? Had she been even hotter down there? His grip tightens and he lets out a low guttural groan.

Suddenly, he's back in the conference room, his hand on her arm. But instead of releasing her, he uses his grip to roughly slam her face first on the bulkhead, right where his fist had been, and presses himself against her back, trapping her with his body. Keeping his hold on her biceps, he lets his other hand roam freely on her side, feeling the wiry muscles and supple skin beneath the fabric of her uniform. Would she moan like she did the other day? Now his hand slides lower down her hipbone towards the place where he never thought he would ever want to touch her so badly, yet here he is, dying to know how she would feel under his fingers. He presses his hips harder against her backside and tilts his head back, opens his jaw and dives in to slowly grab her neck between his mouth plates, finally overpowering her, and…

Oh shit.

He's completely caught off guard by the most violent orgasm he's had in years. His body tenses so hard he almost slips off the crate he's still sitting on.

After the last wave disperses, it takes a good minute for his breath and heart to fall back to a decent rhythm. He slowly blinks his eyes open, not really knowing when he had closed them, and watches his hand still firmly in place around him. Oh Spirits. Did he actually howl? He really hoped the mess hall was as empty as it was when he saw it on his way back. He would never live that one down. He glances at the door, and listens. Apparently it is. He heaves a sigh of relief, looking at his crotch again.

What a mess.

Forget violence, he needs to get laid. Pronto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I shamelessly borrowed the "alpha bitch" (since I didn't know that expression) from [RenShep](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RenShep/pseuds/RenShep)'s epic fic, [Pornographic Epiphany](http://archiveofourown.org/works/882314). ~~It's currently on hiatus but still awesome as it is~~ , so if you haven't read it, I highly recommend that you go do that now.  
> [Edit: RenShep is back!]
> 
> My thanks to [topsypervy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/topsypervy/pseuds/topsypervy) (whose works you should totally go read too!) for suggesting a soundtrack for this fic, [Dissolved Girl by Massive Attack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lcZ0redg1s), which I was listening to while writing the last scene of this chapter. :)


	8. Defuse

Shepard massages the back of her neck and sighs. She's sore all over and the worn out, uncomfortable Kodiak is not making things any easier for her stiff limbs. At least, Bray had been kind enough to flip an empty crate upside down so she could lift her right leg for the duration of the flight back to the Citadel. Yet another sprain. Fucking wonderful.

She really needs to stop forgetting her bone weave doesn't extend to ligaments. Or disregard the close proximity of an Adjutant when she shoots at inanimate objects. Or avoid crappy landings when a singularity sends her flying over a railing. Or all of the above, preferably. She was lucky she actually had enough time to destroy the last restraint keeping Aria's wrath from wrecking what was left of the place, and repainting the walls with the aforementioned Adjutant. It had been a close call.

She glances at her bare ankle and is not happy with what she sees. It's even more swollen now, and progressively turning blue. The ligaments are ruptured, no doubt. That probably means surgery if what little she knows about medicine is right, which also means mandatory recovery time. Well, she needs a break anyway. She shouldn't have gone so long without one in the first place, and she's exhausted.

Not long ago, she would have found the most ridiculous excuses to skip on that but now? She was welcoming it despite the nagging anxiety at going back to the Normandy and… well, Garrus.

Garrus.

Thinking back on the last time they talked, she can't help but feel sick. Being angry at herself was no excuse for lashing out at him as if he was some random insubordinate grunt. The hard stare he had given her after her tirade was new. There had been a hardness in his eyes she had never seen directed to her. She could still feel her heart clenching just by thinking about it. She hurt him. And she feels like shit.

Had it been anyone else, it would have mattered little. She never tolerated people discussing her orders, let alone subordinates ordering her around. That doesn't mean she disregards her crew's input during briefings, but as soon as soon as she sets missions objectives, she expects everyone to follow her lead, no questions asked. Everyone but him. She knows him too well for that. He has an unmatched talent for adapting to new situations at the speed of light and coming with the smartest solutions, and she has always heavily relied on that. He's just too good for her to consider him any less than an equal. The rest of her crew knows that and respects her permissiveness towards him, even if it's a bit unfair and unprofessional. Even to this day, it still surprises her. What has she done to deserve such an understanding crew? What has she done to deserve him?

Whatever it was certainly didn't occur during those past few days. It had been a long time since she last was beside herself with self-loathing. Not long enough anyway. She could still slap herself for her epic fuck up during the way back from Tuchanka, but now that her anger has abated and her sexual frustration is a bit more manageable, she doesn't feel the need to explode at every little thing anymore. About time.

She leans backwards and props her head on the back of the hard metallic back of the seat, and closes her eyes.

She had been a complete bitch. There's no nicer way to put it. Thankfully, everyone had given her a wide berth and didn't ask questions so the damage had been somewhat controlled in the social department. She just hoped being pissed at everything for apparently no reason didn't abrade the loyalty of her crew too much. They need to be united, now more than ever. In the Garrus department, however, well that was another problem entirely.

Garrus.

Her thought always came back to him somehow. When had he gone from indispensable to obsession? Their hypnosis "sessions" had been an eye opener in more ways than one, but she knew the seed had been planted way before that. She suspected Horizon had something to do with the shift in nature of their relationship, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what exactly happened, or how. She just realized along the way that she needed him, plain and simple.

She just hadn't realized the overwhelming extent of that need until…

"Commander, ETA's five minutes now. We're in range. I just got the authorization to land on docking bay D18."

"Thanks, Bray"

She wastes no time and comms home.

"EDI, I'll be at D18 in five, with an ankle injury. Can you send someone my way? Tell Chakwas to get ready to fix ruptured ligaments and give me a roasting."

"Right away. Welcome back, Shepard"

"You're a doll. Shepard out."

Five minutes. Five minutes and she'll have to asses the damage and pick up the pieces. She could already feel her stomach churning.

Going alone with Aria to wreck havoc on Omega had given her the necessary distance to clear her head, but as they near the docking bay, everything she had tried to avoid thinking too hard about is coming back to the front of her mind with implacable force. She remembers with an unforgiving clarity how she could barely keep herself in check around him and how she nearly messed up a gazillion times during the coup d'état because of that. All the unnecessary glances she had cast in his direction could have been the perfect opening for a bullet to lodge itself into her skull. As if she hadn't been pissed enough at herself before that.

That had been the last straw. As unstable as she is, she had always managed to have an exemplary focus regardless of how dire the situation she was thrown in was, so being distracted like that was unacceptable. The fury it had ignited in her had been hard to control.

Hell, even shooting Udina hadn't helped for long.

Well it had helped, but that progress went right out the airlock the moment Kaidan subtly suggested he came back to the Normandy. How she managed to explain that pointing a gun at the commanding officer in charge of the ship he wanted to join was not exactly the best way to carry out a job interview without punching him was a mystery. She had impressed herself, but in retrospect, her fist colliding with his opportunistic face would have been seriously therapeutic.

As a result, she had decided to leave Garrus on the ship for the next missions. She couldn't possibly bring him in any of the ground teams when she could barely look him in the eye or stop herself from watching his every move. She ran away. And she knew he had noticed. What he had made of it, though, she had no idea. Well, almost time to find out. But first things first, she needs both her ankles in working order.

She finally hears the magnetic arms anchor the shuttle to the docking bay and the sharp hiss of the hatch being unlocked. She stands up with a grunt, mindful of her bad leg and gripping the back of the seat for support.

"Need a hand, Commander?" Bray's muffled voice sounds surprisingly concerned. A rare occurrence from a Batarian talking to a Human, and she smirks at the thought.

"Nah, m'fine. Thanks Bray. See you around." She was grateful enough Aria sent her favorite bodyguard to drive her home. It was her strange, convoluted way to express respect and gratitude for her help, but the guy had better to do than playing nurse, and she could do just fine on her own.

"Sure."

She picks up her right boot, straightens up, hops towards the hatch with a wince, and presses the controls to open it. As it hisses open, she crouches to sit on the edge so she can easily reach the ground without having to jump down. When her good foot finally touches the ground, she stands up and lifts her gaze to look for Chakwas or EDI, and freezes.

Ten meters away from her, Garrus is leaning on a railing, arms crossed and staring at her with an uncharacteristic intensity in his eyes. She feels her blood run cold and her heart skip a beat, but miraculously keeps her face impassive.

He slowly pushes himself away from the railing and walks towards her with a confidence she didn't see coming. Garrus always had a bit of a swagger in his step but that was a bit unexpected given the circumstances. Anger, irritation, hurt, even betrayal wouldn't have been much of a surprise. But that? She certainly didn't know what to make of it. Her eyebrows lift on their own accord as her mind starts reeling. And here she thought she knew him like the back of her hand. She's almost too stunned to notice how sexy it is.

"Shepard. Next time you want to bring back a souvenir from Omega, I can suggest a few places where you can find more… healthful options." A mandible twitches infuriatingly. She scowls immediately, but can't ignore the wave of relief that suddenly crashes over her at the familiar feel of his jibe.

"Bite me, Garrus. And I'm fine, thanks for asking." She can't repress the smirk on her face.

He snorts and closes the distance between them.

"As much as I'm tempted to take you up on your offer, we have more urgent matters to attend, like..." He doesn't let her enough time to wonder what he meant by that. Without warning, he grabs her shoulders with one arm, sneaks the other one behind her knees and lifts her bridal-style. She can't contain the traitorous yelp that escapes her lips. "… fixing that ankle of yours."

"What the fuck, Garrus?" she hisses, halfheartedly struggling in his arms. He starts walking away, completely ignoring her complaints and utter mortification. "Put me the fuck down!" She smacks the top of his head with the boot she's still carrying.

That effectively stops him. He turns his head towards her face and lets out a low growl, frowning. Her eyes widen in surprise. But then, as if nothing happened, he starts walking again, looking straight ahead.

"Did you just growl at me?" she asks, disbelief painted all over her face.

"Yes," he answers matter-of-factly. His tone briefly makes her feel like they were merely talking about the weather.

She frowns again. This day was getting even weirder by the minute. And there she thought she had reached a matchless peak on Omega.

"Do you really have to carry me that way?" she hisses in annoyance. Garrus exhales ostensibly.

"Yes, Shepard. We don't have crutches yet, Traynor was still negotiating a pair in Huerta when I left the ship. I can still carry you on my shoulder, though. If you don't mind your butt being the first thing people see when we pass them by, that is," he retorts with amusement clear in his voice.

She grunts in resignation. There's not much she can do beside hopping her way to the Normandy and worsening her injury in the process.

She curls up against his broad chest and tries to ignore the fact that every passerby on the docks between D18 and D24 is going to see Commander Shepard carried like a damsel in distress. This kind of thing shouldn't bother her, she never really cared about what people thought about her, but there's an unpleasant feeling of vulnerability that comes with being physically dependent that never fails to peel entire layers of her self-confidence away. And the fact that Garrus is the Prince Charming makes her feel even more metaphorically naked. She clenches her teeth and inhales deeply.

After a very awkward ID check at the C-Sec checkpoint, she tries to relax a bit. The strong, very Turian arms are surprisingly comfortable despite the stiffness of the too many layers of armor, and are keeping her in a snug position without so much as a hint of tiring out. Even through the remains of her embarrassment and annoyance, she has to admits it feels safe, good even.

She realizes it's the first time they are this physically close. Well, not while he's conscious, that is. She can feel her heart rate speed up a notch at the thought. He's willingly holding her this close without looking the least bit uncomfortable about it. Is that a good sign? But a good sign for what? At least, he doesn't seem to resent her too much for her shitty behavior. As for the rest, she tries very hard to block that train of thoughts before it dangerously barges into the wishful thinking territory. She's not a 14 year-old brat who lets her heart flutter freely with an accidental brush of the hand of her summer crush. She knows the price of getting one's hopes up more than anyone.

Instead, she does what she does best against this type of situation. She deflects, falls back to things she knows how to handle.

"I hate you so much right now," she half mutters, half groans.

He chuckles.

"I know. I would probably hate me too." His voice is soft, understanding. Almost tender.

She snorts. How he always finds the right thing to say, she'll never know. Most people would have apologized, which would only piss her off more than anything. One more reason why she can barely function without him anymore. Damn. There are too many of those already.

"If I hear on the news that Commander Shepard was carried like a fucking princess, I'm repainting your armor in baby pink. With hearts. And glitter," she deadpans.

He lifts a brow plate at her and flutters his mandibles.

"I'd actually pay to see you doing that," he admits, too amused for her liking. "And take a holo of you with smudges of glitter paint on your face."

"Shut up." She lightly punches his chest with a soft thunk. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost, your highness." He flashes her a toothy grin.

She rolls her eyes but can't help smirking.

"Did I mention how much I hate you right now?"

"I think you did, yes."

As they pass the checkpoint to the Normandy she can feel a smidgen of anxiety sneaking back at the thought of seeing her crew again. Things are probably going to be a bit awkward. Meh. She'll make an effort and they'll move on. They have a war to fight and no time for this kind of things.

The thought catches her by surprise. For all she was dreading this reunion, Garrus managed to wash all of her anxiety away in less than a minute. It was surreal. She's seriously starting to think he always was the one knowing her like the back of his hand when she always believed it was the other way around, and it almost makes her head spin. Knowledge is power, so that amounts to saying he has the upper hand now. So much for not wanting to feel vulnerable. The thought is frightening in a way, but it doesn't bother her as much as she would have thought it would.

She glances up at his face, and lets his infectious calm soothe her nerves. Now that she thinks about it, he's probably aware of the power he has on her, albeit partially. Hell, he fucking growled at her. He would never had done that without knowing her deeply enough to anticipate her reaction with absolute accuracy. He knew what she was capable of better than anyone. And having someone reading her like an open book was new.

Had she gone too soft on him? Probably.

Could she have helped it somehow? Probably not.

The more he cracks her walls, the less she cares he does. Old warning bells ring frantically in her head, but their sound grows muffled and distant with every passing day. She feels lighter, more at peace, but it also feels wrong, as if she's betraying something fundamental within herself. She briefly wonder if that's what indoctrination feels like. Losing control, forgetting your beliefs, letting someone else take charge. No. It's not the same. Indoctrination is unnatural, calculating, malevolent. Wait. Did she just compare Garrus to a Reaper? Holy shit. What the fuck is wrong with her?


	9. Nurse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Useless chapter is useless :] and ridiculously longer than the others.
> 
> Since I actually remembered to write a note this time, I'm taking advantage of the opportunity to thank (and hug, never forget the hugs) all the readers who still stick with me despite everything. And apologize for this chapter. ^^'

The looks they got from the few people who were still aboard upon entering the ship were priceless. Commander Shepard, Spectre extraordinaire, a grumpy look on her face, almost looking like a lost little girl in the arms of a large Turian that makes her very Human body look even smaller. They must be quite a sight. As they near the med bay, he can't suppress his grin anymore. She's back, in more ways than one. Almost unharmed and back to her good old feisty self. He had missed her a lot.

"Can you stop looking so pleased with yourself on your own or should I punch that grin off your face for you?" she mumbles.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he retorts innocently.

"I'm so getting back at you for this." She lightly hits his chest with the right boot she's still holding.

"I'm aware. Now could you please open the door? My hands are a little busy."

She rolls her eyes and opens the door of the med bay. Inside, Chakwas stands up from where she was arranging a set of tools by the second cot, and crosses her arms.

"Ah, thank you Garrus. Please put her on the cot. Shepard, should I start last time's anatomy lessons all over again?"

Garrus gently places her on the cot and straightens. Shepard lets the exhaustion pull her flat on her back with a tired huff.

"Nah, I kind of got it the first time, thanks Karin," she half-whispers half-sighs while rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hands.

"Did Traynor finally get that pair of crutches?" Garrus asks, looking around.

"Not yet, but they apparently have an old pair for us. They're waiting for decontamination as we speak."

"Great. I'll be in the mess hall if you need me," he says, vaguely pointing behind him with his thumb.

He turns around and starts walking away. But right before he reaches the door, Shepard calls him.

"Garrus!"

He looks over his shoulder with an inquisitive hum.

"Huh… thanks… y'know, for the ride home." She waves her hand as if it would help structure her words, with little success.

He flashes her a sly, toothy grin and that strange intensity is suddenly back in his eyes. She can't help the small shiver that travels down her spine.

"Anytime, Shepard." His voice is low, a bit more gravelly than usual, and it does funny things to her insides.

He turns back towards the door and exits the med bay, leaving a stunned Commander and a grinning Doctor behind.

She always thought his voice was sexy. Hell, Turian voices were sexy in general. She could remember thinking she could listen to Victus reading the Hahne-Kedar catalog all night long. But that just now? Hot as fuck. Had it done that on purpose? Maybe, just to spite her. He had done his best to drive her up the wall during the whole trip back, so that wouldn't be so surprising. Oh the way he said her name… damn. No, she needed to get her focus back. Needed her best friend on her six without a repeat of last time.

She turns her head back to Chakwas as she lightly grabs her ankle to assess the damage. There's a wolfish grin on the Doctor's face.

"What?" she croaks. Where the hell has her voice gone?

Chakwas glances at her briefly before turning her attention back to her ankle, waving her omni-tool in front of it.

"Nothing. Ruptured ligaments indeed. Two of them, actually. I'm going to assume we don't have the time to let nature do its job since we don't have a month ahead of us to let you recover, so I'll have to fix them with synthetic implants. You will still need 72 hours with a cast and crutches. There's only so much medi-gel can heal. As for the after-effects, your ankle will feel stiffer than before, and the artificial ligaments will be more prone to tearing. I'd ask you to be extra careful from now on but you're not going to listen, are you?" She raises and eyebrow at her.

"I'll do my best. Please tell me I can shower with the cast." Shepard's eyes are almost pleading and she can't help but cringe. She still can feel the dirt and grime of Omega all over her body. She'd give a lot for a long, hot shower right now.

"Yes, it will be more like a splint and it's waterproof. Now let's take that armor off." Chakwas stands up and starts helping her exhausted Commander remove the clasps of her greaves.

In the kitchen, Garrus is digging for a Tupari can in the fridge. He still has a lingering hint of a smile on his face. Shepard's face had been priceless just now. This could actually work after all. Too bad he had had to make a fool of himself, yet again, to realize that.

Can in hand, he walks to the mess table and sits comfortably so he has a clear view of the med-bay. The past two days had been interesting, to say the least. When he left the Normandy, hell bent on blowing off some steam, he never would have thought he would learn so much about himself in such a short period of time.

He remembers entering the Purgatory in his best civvies, and going straight to the bar to order a Dextro Heat Sink. On his left, a Turian was already sipping on her drink. She was good looking and alone, and visibly a little bored. Perfect. So he gathered all his courage and offered some company, in a very awkward, clumsy way. Yep, as usual. He still feels the urge to facepalm at the thought, hard enough to crack a plate.

Surprisingly, the lady had been more amused than annoyed, and even said his hesitation was cute with a giggle, so they actually ended up chatting for a while. She – what was her name again? Tavia? - joined C-Sec pretty recently so she was happy to hear old stories and get a bit of advice in the process. She even asked about his scars and was impressed he was the Turian who joined Commander Shepard in her fight against the Reapers. Not only she was easy on the eye, but she also was open minded.

As they conversation went on, he felt more relaxed with every passing minute. The more he learned about her, the more he felt like himself, not some retard who can't talk to women for shit. He ended up really enjoying her company and the easy, friendly discussions they were having, to the point where he actually considered keeping contact with her as a friend. Along the way, he totally forgot why he approached her in the first place.

However, she hadn't. After almost an hour of talking and drinking reasonably, she asked him if he would be interested if they moved to a more private place. At that very moment, he did a major double take. It took him a few seconds for his brain to process the change of topic and remember the reason he was there at all. Then he tried to picture himself, in bed with her, and all he could see in the sheets would invariably morph into Shepard. It wasn't fair. He couldn't possibly have sex with Tavia while thinking of another woman during the whole thing. She was a nice girl and deserved better than that. Besides, he couldn't help but notice his total lack of arousal despite their current closeness and her obvious interest.

So he did the next best thing and turned her down, confessing he already has someone he's very interested in. Thankfully, she took it in stride and offered to meet again just to chat since she had enjoyed herself a lot, regardless of the outcome. He had been happy to accept and promised to offer her a drink next time.

That night, he came back to the Normandy with a new friend, an old itch and a major breakthrough.

How could he not have noticed earlier? He always associated his clumsiness with the nervousness that comes with trying to bed a woman, but two things didn't apply that night. For one thing, he never was really interested in her since all his focus was elsewhere all along. But what really made him pause was how his awkward self vanished. He remembered that all the women he had casual sex with never really took the time to get to know him. But this time was different, and he realized it was not wooing a woman that made him nervous, it was wooing a stranger.

Shepard was no stranger. Besides, now that he already knew she was interested, what could he be afraid of? After all, they already mock flirted so many times, what was so different? He just needed to go with the flow, stop holding back and add the extra layer of teasing he actually was itching to let loose. And if he read her reaction in the med-bay accurately, she was somewhat receptive to it. He just needed to be subtle enough for the change to be seamless.

With that in mind, he had spent the rest of his shore leave keeping himself busy between running his assigned errands, lending a hand in the holding area, beating high scores in the Armax Arena, and an indecent amount of time alone with his hand and memories of Shepard, her waist, her scent, her warmth and the feel of her thighs. Not the most efficient way to keep his frustrations at bay, but it had done its job until she came back. Now though… when he saw her on the docks, he felt a surge of renewed desire he was sure he couldn't keep hidden for very long. Something's got to give, and soon.

Liara's office door suddenly opens and she rushes out in a hurry, startling him and pulling him out of his thoughts. He must have zoned out for quite a while, and even forgot about his barely touched Tupari.

"Ah, sorry, I was busy when you came back. How is she?" she asks, throwing worried glances between him and the med-bay.

"She's fine, she threatened me the whole way back. Her ankle didn't look very good though. I'm pretty sure it was the wrong shape and color. Chakwas is fixing her ligaments right now. Surgically, if what I saw beside the cot is anything to go by," he answers honestly.

She chuckles softly, relief clear in her smiling eyes.

"Sounds like her. How long has she been in there?"

He checks the time on his omni-tool, not really sure of the exact time he left her inside.

"I'd say fifteen minutes, roughly."

"It should still take a while, then. I'll wait with you, give me a moment." She spins around and disappears in her office.

A minute later, she emerges again, holding a stack of datapads. She settles on front of him and starts arranging them on the mess table.

"I'm afraid I won't be very pleasant company though. I absolutely need to cross-check all this for a client before tomorrow and I'm already running late," she says with an apologetic smile.

"Don't worry about me." He waves a hand dismissively. "I appreciate the company though." He smiles back at her.

They sit in companionable silence for almost half an hour, Liara deep in work and Garrus deep in thought. Occasionally, another crew member would stop by to raid the fridge and ask about their Commander, but otherwise the ship was quiet. It always felt a little weird on shore leave, to see the usually busy mess hall so empty. It somehow reminds him of the first day in-flight after Tuchanka. Back then, it had really felt creepy since the whole crew was there and no one talked, but now it's just calm, peaceful. It almost makes it hard to realize they're at war at all.

If only he hadn't the sight of Palaven burning etched into his eyes. If only he knew his family was alive. If only they had something more tangible than old blueprints from a species that lost the previous war to rely on. Maybe then, he could pretend for a while, that they're at peace and maybe he would feel less guilty for just sitting on his ass and waiting. He should have taken something to do with him like Liara. Surely, he has the time to make a short trip to the main battery.

"I'll be back," he says, standing. Liara answers with an acknowledging hum.

He trots to the main battery, quickly downloads the last reports from the Hierarchy on his omni-tool and heads back to the mess hall. When he passes by the med-bay, he hears a muffled series of expletives his translator doesn't catch. He smirks. He's actually more sorry for Chakwas than he's for her. He had witnessed how difficult a patient she can be on several occasions. It's a good sign though. If she can cuss like a drunken Batarian, she's fine.

After about forty minutes of reading gloomy reports, Chakwas emerges from the med-bay, visibly tired from the long surgery. He's thankful for the distraction. Working had made the waiting more bearable, but it was seriously depressing. He stands up immediately and Liara turns around on her seat, both waiting for the Doctor's debrief.

"She's fine. She'll need crutches for three days though, and Traynor is on her way. Garrus, may I ask you to assist her again for the next half hour?" she asks with a knowing smile.

He snorts.

"Of course, Is there anything I should know for her post-op care?" he asks, returning her smile.

"No. Just get her out of my med-bay, I've heard enough swearing to last a lifetime today," she deadpans, heading for the back of the crew deck, probably to get a drink. Surely she needs one.

Shaking his head, he starts walking towards the door.

"What was that about?" Liara sounded confused by the exchange, probably aware of the little nonverbal interaction between them.

"Never mind," he says with another shake of his head. How could he possibly tell her he had asked Chakwas if Shepard had any allergy to dextrorotatory compounds? As much as he was pleased with the answer and the progress he had made lately, he didn't really need to advertise his intentions before the whole crew.

He finally enters the med-bay and finds Shepard laid on the cot, in her undersuit, an arm thrown over her head and a splint on her right foot.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, slowly walking towards her, trying to ignore how the tight fabric clings to her body.

"Like shit. Hungry," she answers, unmoving. She could have added "dirty" and "tired" to the list, but all in due time. Her stomach had started to growl mid surgery and now she's famished.

"That I can help with." Liara said with a soft smile, from where she was standing in the doorframe. She turns around and heads for the kitchen.

"C'mon. Let's get you something to eat," he says, softly pulling at her shoulder. She doesn't resist and sits up, too exhausted to protest. "I'm sure Liara will find the best this ship has to offer." He slowly takes her in his arms, just like before, and carries her to the kitchen.

He carefully sits her on the kitchen counter while Liara busies herself with her personal stash of Asari ingredients, and he goes back to the table to grab his discarded Tupari.

"So, how was Omega?" he asks, casually walking towards the counter.

"Surprisingly good, actually. Uh, don't get me wrong. The shithole was a mess. Well, not that it wasn't before already, but between Cerberus and some of their worst test subjects ever on the loose, it was downright apocalyptic. Those morons thought it would be a good idea to fucking engineer their own personal Reaper creatures. And naturally, they couldn't keep a leash on them. It wasn't pretty. Not only those monsters can spit singularities like it's nothing, but they have a built-in conversion feature. They catch you, they turn you into one of them," she explains with an expression of disgust showing through her exhaustion.

"Doesn't sound so good to me," Garrus says, cocking his head to the side and leaning on the counter.

"No… damn." She shakes her head. "I'm so tired I can't speak right. I meant working with Aria went surprisingly well. Say what you want about her but the bitch is good. Not that we agreed on everything, but we got the job done in no time, all things considered. It almost felt like it was not our first time partnering. I was impressed," she concedes, her eyebrows slightly raised in appreciation.

"I'm glad. With what I know about both of you, you could only end up either as thick as thieves or tearing each other's guts out," Liara quips, handing something vaguely resembling a burrito to Shepard.

"Yeah, that did cross my mind to be honest. Thanks, Liara," she says, taking the plate from Liara.

She immediately digs in with an appreciative hum. The last ration bar she had eaten was on Omega, and between the intensive use of biotics, the flight back to the Citadel with a busted ankle and the surgery, she's been running on empty for a long time. She would have been content with pretty much anything, but whatever Liara made for her is really good. Simple, but it tastes like heaven. She's practically inhaling it.

"Please don't tell me you two are going to start borrowing each other's clothes and gossip on vid-call every day," Garrus deadpans, sipping on his can.

"Whatsh?" She hurriedly swallows on the bite she was still chewing on and lets out an amused chuckle. "Don't worry, that went right out the airlock the moment she tried to stick her tongue down my throat," she says with a grin.

Liara's eyes go impossibly wide and Garrus chokes on his Tupari. She has to lean backwards to avoid the spray, shielding her food with her hands.

"Hey, I know I need a shower but I'm kind of in the middle of eating y'know?" she says with a scowl.

"She did what?" he asks, flabbergasted, wiping his mouth plates with the back of his glove. Liara is speechless, mouth agape.

"I shit you not, right after she took Petrovsky down, she grabbed my shoulders and kissed the hell out of me without so much as a warning," she explained animatedly, waving her free hand around for emphasis. "I swear this is the weirdest thing I've seen lately, and that's saying something."

It's Garrus's turn to be speechless, but inside, he's seething. He's taken aback by the sudden surge of possessiveness that seeps into his veins and makes him want to break the sly bitch's every limb and throw her in a varren pit. A pang of guilt suddenly twists his gut when he remembers what exactly he had gone to the Purgatory for a few days prior and further darkens his mood. Spirits, he needed to get a grip on his emotions. This woman is going to be the death of him.

"Not that I really want to know, of that anyone can really read her for that matter, but do you think she… how should I put it… meant anything by that?" Liara askes, a hint of worry on her face, not letting the time for Shepard to see the flicker of anger cross her best friend's features.

That could have been problematic and she had considered it for a moment, but the context was not really in favor of that theory so she had brushed it aside as one of the countless impenetrable quirks of the manipulative nutcase.

"Well, if she hadn't gone on a killing rampage to avenge the death of an ex-lover who just sacrificed her life to take three Adjutants down right before, I'd have considered it seriously. Maybe. But no. Just, no. She's capricious, end of the story." She assures, and resumes eating.

"Well, that must have been… intense. I really hope it will be worth the trouble in the long run," Liara muses.

"It'd better be," Garrus mutters, looking to the side, frowning.

"Liara, I have no idea what that was, but if you ever feel like making any more sometime, I wouldn't mind having some. You're a lifesaver," Shepard says, patting her stomach.

As she licks her fingertips clean, Garrus's eyes are drawn to her mouth. He marvels at the way her lips move with an agility his own species can only dream of. He had heard about things Humans allegedly like to do with their mouths in very intimate situations, but never really could bring himself to believe the rumors. Who would allow anyone to put their teeth so close to any of their most sensitive areas and be relaxed enough to enjoy it? Now, however, he's starting to reconsider his preconceptions, and even tries to imagine how those flexible, so very mobile lips would feel if he touched them. His heart rate speeds up a notch at the thought, and the room feels a little hotter. Not good. He looks away and tries hard not to think about how perfect the kitchen counter's size is to bend someone over it. Baby Krogans, Garrus.

"Sure, I'll get some more valtiac roots on our next shore leave, then," she answers, a soft smile on her face. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I still have urgent work to do for tomorrow, and you need rest. Take good care of her, Garrus." She waves at them, turning towards him before retreating to her office.

"See you later. Oh, by the way. EDI?" Shepard asks, turning her gaze towards one of the security cameras.

"Yes, Shepard?" The synthetic voice answers immediately.

"Please notify the crew we're leaving in four Citadel hours."

"Right away."

"Thanks. And Joker?" she asks, betting he'd be hearing her too.

"Where to?" Heh.

"Lesuss, Mesana system. I need the Asari High Command to pull their aristocratic heads out of their arses." She smirks. Sometimes, putting people in your debt was the best way to make your voice heard.

"Aye, aye, Commander!" Joker chirps through the comm.

"Good. Now that I feel alive again, I really need a shower. I stink." She cringes as she looks down at herself, pinching at the fabric of her undersuit.

"Need a ride?" Garrus asks with a smirk on his mandibles, crossing his arms.

"Laugh it up, Garrus," she says with a mock scowl. "But yeah, I need to talk to you anyway," she adds, extending an arm towards him.

He chuckles and moves to carry her for the third time that day. He could really get used to this, he thinks, walking towards the elevator. Especially without her armor. He can feel her muscles through the thin layer of fabric and a hint of her amazing flexibility at the way her body relaxes and molds itself into his arms. However, he can't suppress the feeling of foreboding at her words. She needs to talk to him, alone, in her quarters. Last time this happened, all hell broke loose. Trying not to think too hard about it, he takes advantage of the rare moment of weakness of his usually unshakable best friend.

"You're awfully compliant, for once. Who are you and what have you done with the Commander?" he quips, lifting an eyebrow at her as she palms the controls of the elevator for him.

Oh, if looks could kill, he would combust on the spot. The odds for him to charm his way out of her impending lust for vengeance are close to nil, but he just can't help himself.

"Just you wait, Garrus. Just you wait," she drawls with a menacing smirk.

Yep, he's in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Baby Krogans! :D](http://andrewryanart.deviantart.com/art/N7-Day-on-Tuchunka-412167871) (Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish I could draw half as well as that dude.)


	10. Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another ridiculously long chapter... what's going on?
> 
> I wrote this chapter listening to NIN's [Hurt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWxasQEzuBg) and [Something I can never have](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaKqSR22EcU), and IAMX's [This will make you love again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B1e9MrkN2XE). Needless to say, as a result I'm not feeling exactly cheerful right now. :D Sorry in advance I guess?

Shepard sighs around her toothbrush. The shower had done wonders to her sore body, but now she's completely drained, and her limbs feel like lead. Those three days of recovery really couldn't come at a better time. Granted, she'll still be working but at least, there will be no gunfight, no running in armor, no negotiating, and most importantly, uninterrupted sleep. She feels even more exhausted at the thought, as if all the tension she had carried during those past few days had been the only thing keeping her on her two feet.

But to get there, she needed to delegate the next mission to someone else first. Sleep would have to wait.

Her thoughts drift back to Garrus, again. She has no doubt he won't object her choice to put him in charge, but she doesn't dread their discussion any less. She has to right a few wrongs here. She needs to apologize for her behavior, she has postponed it for too long already. She cringes at the thought. She always sucked at apologizing. Well, putting it into words, that is. She always avoids it as much as possible, usually making up for her mistakes by actively correcting them and taking responsibility for the consequences. It's practical and usually not incompatible with the military, so she never really had to work very hard on that, but in moments like that her lack of social skills never fail to add up to her anxiety. Speaking of which…

She rinses her mouth and toothbrush, dries her face and awkwardly crouches to grab her personal first aid kit under the sink. Inside, she finds her meds, takes two tablets of diazepam and swallows them with a wince. She hurriedly grasps the edge of the sink to stand and drinks directly from the tap to wash the unpleasant feeling of swallowing the tablets dry. Much better.

As she wipes her mouth with her hand, she glances at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin is unnaturally pale and the shadows under her eyes are darker than ever. Yep, she needs to sleep like the dead tonight. And if a little chemical help was what she needed to make sure she achieves that, she'll worry about her consumption later.

She sighs, closing her eyes and leaning heavily on the sink. If only apologizing was the hardest thing she needed to do tonight…

She can't help the uneasiness that seeps through her veins and the unavoidable feeling of déjà vu at her current situation. The last time she took a shower with Garrus waiting in her quarters, she shot herself in the foot big time. She couldn't risk losing control like that anymore. This had to stop. Using him like that had been bad enough, but as long as it stayed behind closed doors she could handle the guilt. But letting it affect her job was absolutely unacceptable, especially given the circumstances. She couldn't possibly take that risk anymore.

Her heart clenches as she's already mourning the loss of that artificial proximity she had stolen from him. It had been bittersweet, but its intensity had made her feel alive again, albeit temporarily. As much as she's aware that the comfort she had found in his arms was a lie all along, she knows losing it will hurt her in more ways than one. She never had been this close to him, and distancing herself again was painful enough already, but now that she has learned how deep her attraction to him runs, she knows it will leave a new scar on her already battered heart. Hell, she can feel it bleeding in her chest already.

She should have known better. She should have anticipated flying too close to the sun would melt her wings away. She had known from the start it was a dangerous game to play, yet she still threw herself into it without acknowledging her common sense screaming at her in horror. How much more self inflicted pain does she need to endure before she finally learns that there are things she's just not meant to have?

She fights the urge to destroy her reflection with her fist. Too noisy. The last thing she needs is Garrus barging in on her naked body, bloody knuckles and a broken mirror. Instead, she straightens, rubs away the familiar sting of unshed tears with the heels of her hands and hastily puts on her underwear, a tank top and a pair of shorts. She hops to the door, breathes heavily to calm her nerves and opens the door.

She hears shuffling from the general direction of her small living room, and a muffled curse. Then, she sees Garrus jog up the small flight of stairs with a pair of crutches in his hand. Thank goodness.

He approaches her carefully, taking in her exhausted form.

"Hey, feeling better?"

His voice is soft, soothing, and she can feel a bit of weight slipping off her shoulders. Yeah, whatever happens, he'll still be by her side, right? As cruel as it is to be able to see but never touch, she needs his presence like the air she breathes, so it's not all that bad after all. A few more cracks on her walls is something she can live with, as long as he's here with her. She's been through worse, she should be used to it by now. Be strong, Jane.

"Not really." She snorts. "But at least I don't smell like a rotting corpse anymore."

"It wasn't that bad, you know? Well… it was bad but bearable. I could still carry you around." He smirks.

"Heh, too bad you won't get to carry me now I'm clean, then." She vaguely gestures towards the crutches. "Now you'll think I stink all the time."

"Yeah, too bad," he says, his face unreadable. She does a double take. Did he just give her a quick once-over? "But I'll take your word for it."

He turns towards the desk and leans one of the crutches on it, and hands her the other one.

"We still have to adjust the height." He crouches in front of her. "Tell me when it feels right."

After a couple of minutes of fiddling with the clasps, she finally has a mildly comfortable old pair of crutches, as well as a bit of freedom to move on her own, finally. Walking down the stairs takes a bit more time than she anticipated, as her arms feel like jelly with how exhausted she is. When she finally reaches the couch, she flops down gracelessly with a heavy huff.

Garrus heads wordlessly to the booze closet and comes back with her whiskey, his horosk and two glasses.

"I swear, you're a mind reader," she drawls, letting her head fall on the back of the couch.

He chuckles and sits beside her, and fills both their glasses with a liberal amount of liquor.

"I'm pretty sure you should lift your right leg, Shepard."

She snorts.

"Yes, mom." She still places her crutches on the coffee table and places her leg next to them, her movements imprecise and sluggish. "Happy?" She collapses back on the couch.

"Very." He hands her her glass, and she gratefully takes it. "By the way, Copeland stopped by to bring your gear." He points at her locker behind the bed. "Could use a little cleaning though." He sips on her drink and exhales slowly.

"I see you started already." She nods towards her half dismantled Shuriken laid on the coffee table in front of him, along with a greasy rag and a cleaning rod.

"Well, you were taking your sweet time. I was bored."

She doesn't fight the tired smile that pulls at her cheeks, but doesn't find the energy to retort. Instead, she drinks again. Probably unwise with the meds she just took but she's too drained to care.

He places his glass on the table and resumes reassembling her submachine gun. For a while, she just stares at his deft hands working their magic. How can Turians be so agile with only six fingers and a thick pair of gloves?

"Garrus, I have to ask, did you get any news while I was away?"

His hands still on the weapon and his mandibles tighten on his face. He immediately knows what she's referring to and he swallows the sudden lump in his throat. He doesn't know what is worse. Not knowing whether what remains of his family is dead or alive and being constantly tortured by the possibility that he may never hear from them again, or learning about their demise and actively mourning them.

"No." His hands resume working, his gaze never moving from the gun.

She slowly sits up and places a hand on his forearm.

"You will," she says, resolutely.

He turns his head towards her and gives her a tired smile. He could almost believe her words.

She releases his arm and sits back, staring at nothing, her back tense.

"I… about earlier..." she starts lamely and grimaces.

"Don't," he interrupts, straightening.

He almost instantly regrets his words. He knows she feels the need to apologize, but his own guilt is on the verge of overflowing and hearing her say those words would only add to it. It's incredibly selfish of him, and he knows it, but he can't let her apologizing for something he's just as responsible for, if not more. Even if she needs it right now. He clenches his teeth and braces himself for the impending lies, and hates himself for it already.

"What?" She turns to him, frowning at the interruption when she finally had gathered the courage to go for it.

He looks back to the weapon and sighs.

"This war… if it can still be labeled as a war… is hard on all of us. I can't even begin to imagine the toll it must be taking on you. The Hierarchy coming to me for advice on the Reapers was crushing enough already, but you… you have the whole galaxy on your back. So if anyone has the right to be upset from time to time, it's you." He turns to her and pierces her with an unreadable stare.

Well, not much of a lie after all…

She clenches her eyes shut and her head hits the back of the couch with a soft thud.

"I don't deserve you," she says with a heavy sigh, fighting back tears yet again.

He chokes out a humorless laugh while clicking the last part into place and lowering his head.

"I could say the same about you," he murmurs, almost too low for her to hear.

He immediately wants to slap himself. He's not supposed to give anything away about his own guilt. This is getting out of hand. So far, he had managed to keep clean of any suspicious behavior but if he starts to slip like that, he could very well put both of them in danger, as much for their friendship as it could be yet another source of distraction in the field.

He briefly glances towards her, only to see she hasn't budged, eyes still closed and breathing slowly but deeply. She would almost look relaxed if not for the tense wrinkles on her lids. Before the silence stretches for too long and gives them too much time to think about heavy words, he puts the gun down and quickly changes the subject.

"So… I was wondering, what exactly do you want to do on Lesuss with a broken ankle? I thought Chakwas said you needed three days of doing nothing," he asks, trying hard to keep his tone neutral.

She perks up instantly, immensely grateful for the change of subject. Garrus's cheerful mood had kept her from crumbling so far, but it had somewhat vanished since they entered her quarters and it was severely putting her off balance. But she still had work to do and was thankful for the distraction.

"I'm glad you asked," she says, straightening with a knowing smile.

"Oh?" He looks up, sipping on his drink.

She has to take a moment to gather her thoughts and remember the details of the upcoming missions, as a light buzz is worming its way to her head and messing with her thought process. Yeah, drinking had been a bad move. She really hopes she won't be too high by the end of their talk.

"Yeah, the thing is, I'm not going anywhere with that bad ankle. Hackett received news from the Quarians, and apparently they're willing to join the party. About time, if you ask me." She rolls her eyes and he snorts. "Anyways, I can't possibly go meet with the Admirals like that, so in the meantime, we're going to spend a couple of days on Lesuss," she adds, a serious expression on her face.

"Fine by me, but according to what little I know about Lesuss, I can think of a couple of better destinations for a holiday trip," he quips.

She chuckles.

"I wish. Apparently, the Asari High Command received news of a distress signal originating from there and according to Liara, they were pretty insistent in passing it along to us. I need them in our debt, so it's the perfect occasion to throw them a bone. And since I can't do much on my own right now, I want you to take care of it in my stead." Her eyes silently ask him for his consent despite the final tone of her words.

"Oh, I see. Who should I take along?"

She smiles softly. Sweet, reliable, efficient Garrus. Of course she could count on him to stand in for her without batting an eyelash… eyelid. Whatever. Damn, she's light-headed.

"I think Liara would be the best choice, since she knows more about Asari colonies than any of us, but it's up to you, really." She waves a hand dismissively.

"Sounds good." He nods. "What about Vega to balance the party?"

"Good choice." She smiles. "Besides, I saw you two hit it off pretty easily." She smirks, remembering their little pissing contest in the mess hall.

"Yeah, I saw him in action too. He did good on Menae. There's a lot of potential hidden behind the theatricality," he adds appreciatively.

"I know, right? Even the Alliance can see that, they approached him with an offer to join N7 training. I told him to go for it but he's still considering it," she says, visibly a bit disappointed with his hesitation.

"Give it time, Shepard. He already has a lot on his plate right now."

She hums in weak agreement, a bit too out of it to argue, while she opens her omni-tool to get the mission parameters. She wasn't in the mood to start a debate about how important it is to give soldiers things to fight for and why it was energy well spent for the push it gave them on the field.

"Here, this is all I have on Lesuss. It's not much, but it's all I have. You'll have to make do." She lifts her arm towards him and sends the data.

He sips on his glass and sets it on the table, then opens the file. Not much indeed. Not enough to give the Asari the benefit of the doubt.

"They're hiding something."

She snorts bitterly.

"No shit. Don't tell me you're surprised." She gives him a jaded look.

He groans. Of course they are. Hell, Victus himself did just that not long ago. Did they not get that uniting a galaxy required putting some effort into trusting each other?

"Great. Another mission going south before it even started. And you'll miss all the fun." He chuckles weakly.

"I know. And I hate dumping it on you, but… just… be careful, alright?" She looks at him worriedly, but he can't help but notice how her eyelids look droopier than usual.

"Yeah."

He doesn't miss the irony of having his own words thrown back at him, and responding the exact same way she did that day. Hopefully this will not end with an Asari snogging him too. He tries hard not to visibly recoil at the thought.

She downs the rest of her drink, places the empty glass on the coffee table and sits back.

"Dive now."

His reaction is instantaneous, and his body goes lax even before he has the chance to process what she said. When had he become so well conditioned to react to her trigger words? He tries to relax, despite his reeling mind. He knew it had a high probability of happening, so he wasn't really surprised, but with what happened last time, he can't suppress his disappointment. Granted, she's reckless on a good day, but knowing how much it had affected her in the field, he had hoped that maybe she would have pulled the plug. Apparently not.

She lifts her leg off the table, scoots closer to him, and gently places her head on his shoulder. To his surprise, she just sighs and stays unmoving for a whole minute, to the point where he has to force himself not to glance at her to make sure she's still awake. But when his trepidation finally abates and he feels the tension ease on his back, he hears her murmur, almost not loud enough for his translator to catch.

"I'm sorry."

Welp, so much for interrupting her earlier. He clenches his teeth as his stomach curls, bracing himself for whatever will come next.

"I still wonder how I could do that to you, Garrus. You deserve so much better than that." Her breathy voice is almost shaking.

She slowly straightens and brushes the back of her hand along his mandible. He can't stop it from twitching slightly and she lets out a soft chuckle, visibly amused by the reflex. His body relaxes at the sound. His traitorous body. Her soft voice, feather-light touch and close proximity affect him so much he wonders how long he would have remained oblivious to her as a female if they never started this. It feels unbelievably good to have her this close to him, caressing his face as if he were made of glass. Who knew Commander Shepard was capable of such tenderness?

"It has been so long since the last time I felt like a woman. I missed that." She places her hand on his armored shoulder and rests her cheek over it. "There's so much I'm missing on, you know? Sometimes I wish I could have a normal life, with a nice boyfriend who would buy me flowers from time to time and help me paint my toenails." Her words are slightly muffled, as if she would fall asleep at any moment.

He has to lift a brow plate at this. It was so corny, so unlike her that he starts to wonder if he hadn't painfully overestimated how much he knew about her. And painting toenails? Was it a Human ritual he was not aware of? He makes a mental note to check that out on the extranet.

She straightens back up and heaves a long sigh.

"But this needs to stop." The suddenly resolute tone of her voice is strangely at odds with her tired expression.

He suppresses a trill of relief at her words. Thank the Spirits! With this mess out of the way, they could be finally free to be honest with each other again, and he could approach her without walking on eggshells or constantly putting their friendship on the line.

"That being said, we're at war… we could die tomorrow for all we know. And… there's one thing I don't want to die without." She strokes the rim of the cowl of his armor, her eyes following her fingers, making her look unexpectedly shy. The sight is unsettling, coming from her.

He instantly knows she's going to ask him something nerve-wracking. However, nothing would have prepared him for the words that suddenly tug at his heart.

"Garrus, kiss me."

His brain shuts down for a second as he suddenly feels a powerful wave of something he has no name for crash over him mercilessly. So this is what Commander Shepard can't die without? That's it? He's unbelievably humbled, but can't suppress a surge of unabashed pride at the thought, and his body moves on its own accord.

He turns towards her, gently places a gloved hand on her cheek and bends down to slowly nuzzle her forehead and temples, closing his eyes. The soft purring that escapes his throat is completely out of control.

Shepard giggles through the fog of her dizziness. She hadn't expected that. So this is how Turians kiss? How adorable. Seeing this big, predatory, beautifully lethal creature rub his head on hers and purr like an affectionate kitten has her heart melting in her chest, drowning all the scars like they never were there. The sudden rush of endearment almost convinces her to leave it at that, but her intoxicated brain miraculously manages to remember that she has other ideas.

"Garrus, let me kiss you like a Human." She whispers.

He stills and stops purring, unsure of what to do. He knows that Humans kiss about the same way Asari do, but aside from a few theoretical facts and having witnessed it on several occasions, he has no idea how that works. Hell, he's not even sure this is physically possible for him, given the general stiffness of his face.

His hand falls on her shoulder as she gently grabs the sides of his face and straightens, breathing deeply, trying to steady her spinning head.

"Forgive me." She whispers, as she closes her eyes and leans in.

The moment he feels her lips touch his, it takes him a lot of self-control to not recoil in surprise. The contact is alien in so many ways and it takes a second for his brain to adjust and remember this is Shepard's mouth, and nothing to be afraid of. But then, she pulls back a few centimeters, breaking the contact, and he wonders if she felt him wince.

"I missed you so fucking much," she breathes out against him, and it's all he can do not to take her in his arms and tell her how much he missed her too.

But before he can think back on the restless hours he spent in the main battery trying to sleep as he anxiously waited for her return, her mouth is back on his. When she slightly moves her lips, he finally registers the new sensations steadily flooding his senses. They're warm, and the texture is soft and pliant just like he thought it would be, but there's a hint of moisture there he's not fully sure about. It just feels weird.

Shepard feels like her whole body is floating and her heart is threatening to burst out of her chest with how hard and erratically it's pounding. Kissing Garrus is all she had dreamed of and then some. His mouth plates are not as rigid as she would have thought and as she slowly moves her own lips on them, she can feel them slightly twitch, contrasting with the surprising amount of give she initially found there. The kiss is extremely awkward, he visibly has a hard time figuring out how to respond, but she wouldn't trade it for anything in the whole galaxy. She distantly hopes she will remember it the next morning, given how high she's getting on meds, alcohol, exhaustion and her own excitement. Yet, she feels a muted, foggy craving spread through every cell of her body and tries her best to deepen the kiss.

When one of her hands slides to the back of his neck, Garrus finds the strength to rid himself of a few doubts. It's a good sign if he ever saw one and as bizarre as this whole experience is, he doesn't find it unpleasant either. Touching like this is extremely intimate, and he starts to see why Humans are more prudish about their own displays of affection. The intimacy is almost overwhelming, and reaches levels he had thought to be unattainable without some kind of sexual contact. Now this is new. Her close proximity excites him like he would expect in any other situation, but the touch is merely tender, affectionate, almost innocent, and the things it does to him are nothing like the mind blowing want he had felt last time when there was no lips involved, yet they're just as powerful in their own sweet way.

Emboldened by this development, he tries to move his lips around a bit, reveling in the way she follows his every move, sighing softly. It's like a slow dance, they improvise as they go, following the beat of a music only they can hear. On the spur of the moment, he lightly tugs at her bottom lip and she moans languidly.

Oh.

A sudden wave of heat seeps under his skin and he suddenly feels the strange urge to devour her alive. He can feel his groin plates shift and feel unusually slick. He inhales sharply and presses harder against her, trying to process where that thrilling, cannibalistic hunger comes from. Has he finally lost his mind? Her lips part and her tongue slips out to wet a tiny patch of an upper mouth plate. Uneasiness completely forgotten, his own tongue comes out and meets hers, curling around it and tasting her. There, he finds a faint remain of the whiskey he could smell in her breath, but also a hint of menthol and a bland, almost salty taste that he supposes belongs to her saliva. He absently remembers he's supposed to be grossed out by the wetness but he can't find the will to care.

Shepard feels her body kindle with a smoldering heat as she feels more than she hears the low rumble emanating from him as his tongue caresses hers. It sounds so possessive and dangerous she could almost think he's very much awake and the reflexive, primal part of her brain sends a thrill of fear down her spine that makes her shiver. She's so far gone that it barely registers, but it makes her limbs turn to mush and for a moment, she thinks she's going to pass out.

She's barely conscious enough to notice all the little differences she finds there. His tongue is a bit on the dry side, she surface a little rougher than her own, and oh my God is it prehensile? It's curling around her own in ways she never would have thought possible and it's all she can do not to boldly bite and suckle on it.

But then, it hits her like a shockwave.

She hurriedly breaks the kiss right before her arms give out and she ends up headbutting him in the process. Her head is spinning like a mass relay core and she starts to feel the familiar empty feeling and cold sweat that always precede fainting. Not good. She clenches her eyes shut and breathes heavily.

To say Garrus is startled by her sudden recoil would be an understatement, and the frustration takes him by surprise. He had ended up really enjoying himself, despite his initial reservation. But when he sees her face, sickly white and a bead of sweat traveling down a temple, he seriously begins to worry. Something is very, very wrong. Panic rises in him at the possibility of an undetected allergy. He doesn't have any immunosuppressive shots around. Would he have the time to rush to Chakwas to get one before she has an anaphylactic shock?

"So… tired..." She drawls weakly, her arms falling down.

Before he knows what's going on, she collapses in his arms. He catches her easily and stays petrified for a few seconds, unsure about what to do. But then, she stars to emit a soft, rhythmic sound. Oh, she's snoring.

Relief washes over him as he realizes she just collapsed from exhaustion. He carefully lifts her limp body in his arms and heads towards her bed.

While he's tucking her in, he tries to wrap his head around what just happened. Some lines have been seriously blurred here, and it makes him extremely uneasy. Hopefully, she will stop trying like she said she would, but that doesn't change the fact that his behavior must have been awfully suspicious. Will she catch on that when she's awake and thinking straight?

Suddenly, cold seeps into his veins as he remembers a crucial detail. She never had the chance to "wake him up". He freezes as dread crawls up his plates. Spirits, there's no way she won't notice that. What will he do if she figures it out?

At worst, it could very well be the end of her trust in him, and thus, of their friendship. He sits on the edge of her bed and buries his face in his hands. And there he thought he was in trouble but this is far worse than what he could have imagined.

He turns to her and places a hand on her cheek, and trills a low keen, rubbing a thumb over her cheekbone.

His heart clenches painfully as she leans into his touch in her sleep.

He leans in and presses his forehead to hers.

"I'm sorry." He murmurs, crying out his guilt in a thick layer of subharmonics she'll never hear.

He stealthily leaves the room, trying to find comfort in knowing that tonight, at least one of them is going to sleep properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [DarkAislinn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAislinn/pseuds/DarkAislinn) for the toenails idea! ^^
> 
> So now, to cheer you up a bit: [remember Mordin's recruitment quest?](http://jaderaven93.deviantart.com/art/ME2-Turn-It-On-282650671) :] (Disclaimer: still not mine) 
> 
> Now I HAVE to brag for a bit, sorry. I just received a gift fic from [topsypervy]() and it's the cutest thing ever!!!!! <3 Go check it out here: [CLICKYCLICKY](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisyphe/gifts) If teenage mischief and first loves are your thing, this one is going to make you melt! :3 She's amazing!!!


	11. Dodge

Shepard wakes up in a daze. It takes her a few seconds to recognize her surroundings, and a good minute to gather her wits. Her body feels strangely light and heavy at once, and it's wonderful. It has been so long since the last time she felt this rested. She stretches slowly, willing her muscles to start working again, and lets out a long, contented yawn.

It takes her a little while to remember where they are. The stars are still above her, so they're not in FTL right now. Ah, right, Lesuss.

She bolts upright, panic coursing through her body and forcibly jolting it awake. Flashes of yesterday night's events suddenly rush through her foggy mind in a jumbled mess. Garrus was here. She had to put him in charge. Did she do it? Damn, she should never have drank that whiskey. Ah, yes, he wanted to bring Vega. And… oh.

She runs a hand on her face as scattered shards of memories slowly fall back into place. She did it. Her very last selfish request. And fate must really hate her because she could barely remember any of it. Worse, she had no idea how she ended up in bed. She freezes for a minute, trying to hypothesize what must have happened through the mind numbing fog of her rising fear.

Dropping her hand, she frantically looks around her, searching for clues. Did she get there on her own? If she did, then hopefully it means she was alert enough to cover her tracks properly. But her crutches are not here, so the probability is pretty low. If Garrus did put her there… then the equation suddenly has too many variables to compute, but at least it's not necessarily a bad sign. You don't tuck friends in like a mother hen if your friendship is FUBAR, right? He's a sweet guy, but he takes betrayal too seriously to overlook it to this extent. Well, or so she hopes.

Not really comforted by her conclusions, she flops back down. She had intended to nullify the trigger, but she can't remember if she did it. Probably not. Now this is problematic. She had chosen words that had a low probability to end up in a normal sentence, so she will have a hard time testing them again. She couldn't just blurt them out now, it would just be too weird if the trigger is not working anymore, and there was a possibility that it would make… things resurface. She couldn't make assumptions based on what she knew about Human hypnosis, even though it has worked so far.

Thinking back on the first "dives", she really wonders what she was thinking at the time. What if the trigger hadn't worked? She would have just stood there in the main battery spewing something utterly nonsensical that happened to be an order, grammatically speaking. Garrus was many things, but an idiot definitely wasn't one of them. He used to be a C-Sec investigator for crying out loud, and a good one at that. He would have eventually connected the dots, most certainly.

There's a good chance that he has now, she thinks bitterly, pressing the heels of her hands on her eyes.

"EDI?" She lets her arms fall heavily on the mattress.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"Where is Garrus at the moment?" She moves to sit on the edge of the bed and rests her elbows on her lap, her head falling down.

"On Lesuss, with Liara and James. I can open a connection if you wish."

Her head perks up. They shouldn't be there yet.

"How long did I sleep?" she asks, disbelief clear in her voice.

"Fourteen hours and twenty three minutes."

Oh wow. She really had reached her limits, hadn't she?

"I'm amazed no one hacked my door to check on me yet. Or pinged me, at the very least," she mumbles, checking her omni-tool for any recent instant messages. Surprisingly, there is none.

"I buffered your private messages while you were asleep." Immediately, a short stream of worried messages pop up on her interface with a series of low beeps. "I also took the liberty to inform the crew of your well-being and discourage any attempt at waking you up."

How thoughtful and observant. She pauses, and resists the urge to groan. Of fucking course. If anyone can fill in the blanks, it's EDI.

"How did I get in my bed?" she asks warily.

"Garrus carried you there while you were asleep."

Urgh, not good. She winces, clicking her tongue. For a moment, she considers asking for the whole story. Does she really want to know? Probably not. She had reached her quota of mortification for the month. However, she still needed to know what to expect, and it essentially boiled down to one thing.

"Was he mad at me?" she breathes out, closing her eyes, feeling her heart rate speed up and waves of dread tingle under her skin.

"No."

She opens her eyes, her back relaxing a little.

"Are you sure?" she insists, hopeful.

"Yes, Shepard. I have gathered and analyzed all the information the extranet has to offer on the body language of all sentient species to optimize the communication abilities of my mobile platform." She actually sounds smug, and maybe a little offended. "I can assure you that according to the available data on Turians, the way he handled you was careful and affectionate, not angry."

She doesn't even try to suppress the heavy sigh of relief that escapes her lips. Heh. Careful and affectionate? A soft smile tugs at her lips. So he didn't catch on after all. Fate didn't hate her that much, apparently. Thank goodness for small miracles.

"What's their status?" she asks, straightening, Commander Shepard taking over.

"The distress signal originated from an Ardat-Yakshi monastery where almost all the residents have been turned into Reaper creatures." Shepard facepalms, groaning. Of course it did. No wonder the Asari were so twitchy. "They met Samara shortly after their arrival, who happens to have two daughters among the residents." She arches an eyebrow and drops her hand. The galaxy is a small place. It puts her mind at ease to know she's there, the odds of success are getting better. "There's a bomb in the monastery and they're currently heading there to activate it. The Reaper units offer a heavy resistance but according to their latest status report, they're unharmed and pushing forward at a steady pace."

So they're doing fine, and Samara is with them. Regardless, she can't help but worry. A full monastery of Reaper-ified Ardat-Yakshi? Memories of Morinth suddenly flash before her eyes and make her shiver. Those are already dangerous as they are, but turned into rabid creatures whose sole purpose is to sow death and destruction? Shit. What did she throw them into? Nothing a good bomb can't fix, but that is if they can set it off properly.

"Thanks, EDI."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

She looks down at her splint with a scowl. She hates feeling useless. The itch to gear up and join them is grating on her nerves. She really needs to keep herself busy.

She looks around, craning her neck, and spots her crutches, still on the coffee table along with yesterday night's mess. Well, time for some more hopping.

She keeps up to date with the ground team's regular updates while eating breakfast, skimming through the last reports on the Crucible, the Krogan help on Palaven and the hopeless situation on Earth, and desperately wanting to throw those damn crutches across every room she goes through. But after their last status report mentioning they found the bomb and were about to activate it, she starts pacing restlessly in the CIC. After some very long minutes, she finds herself entering the cockpit, anxiously waiting for Garrus's green light for extraction.

"Y'know, Commander, I never felt that bad about being the only cripple aboard. I appreciate the gesture but you didn't have to, really," Joker quips with a smirk.

She hits the back of his seat playfully with a crutch.

"Smartass." She can't suppress a smile. "So did that bomb explode?"

"The scanners indicated a significant heat peak at the coordinates of the monastery eleven minutes ago, Shepard," EDI informs her.

She frowns.

"Then what the hell are they-"

"...ormandy? ...round team ...ou copy?" Garrus voice is barely audible through the static.

A wave of relief and pride suddenly makes her light-headed.

"EDI can you improve that?" she asks in a hurry. "Patch me through."

"Right away."

"Garrus, Shepard here. What's your status?"

"Oh… huh… glad to hear you're awake. We, huh, had a bit of a situation here so sorry for the late report. Everyone is safe and ready for extraction."

"Great job. We're sending Cortez your way. Shepard out."

The comm dies and she huffs a relieved sigh.

"Lieutenant Cortez has been notified and is preparing for takeoff."

"Thanks, EDI," she says with a nod.

"Urgh, finally," Joker adds, easing back into his seat. "I couldn't take any more scowling Turians today. Those are pretty scary, y'know?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, frowning.

"Ah, right, well, when you we busy playing Sleeping Beauty, we had to deal with a grumpy Garrus. Not exactly my idea of fun this early in the morning. Seriously, I don't know what you told him about the mission, but he looked like something ate his favorite rifle and spit it back out," he deadpans, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

She snorts.

"Well, not surprising. The Asari sent us to this deathtrap deliberately hiding crucial information from us. I'd have been pissed too, remember Victus and the bomb?" She archs an eyebrow. "Besides, with what they found there, you can't really blame him, can you?"

"Yeah, I gotta admit that was not exactly your most graceful display of amiability," he chuckles. She lightly hits the back of his seat again. "Fair enough." He raises his hands in surrender. "I'm not the one dealing with all this political bullcrap and I'm happy to keep it that way."

"Savor it while it lasts, you never know what the future holds. I'll be in the war room starting the report, Send Garrus my way whenever he's ready?" She turns and starts hobbling her way back to the CIC.

"Aye, aye!"

Forty minutes later, Garrus is silently scrubbing his weapons and helmet in the shuttle bay. The rest of his armor will have to wait since Shepard is waiting for him for a dreaded but necessary debrief. His hands are almost shaking as he places his gear in his locker. He closes the door, and presses his forehead on it, sighing.

Her voice had been carefully neutral on the comm, and he has no idea what to make of it. Part of him knows she's nothing if not professional on duty, and it was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Nonetheless, hearing her clipped and somewhat distant tone had been like a slap in the face. What if she only speaks to him that way from now on? He can feel his blood chill at the thought. Well, time to find out anyway, to put an end, unexpectedly good or devastatingly bad, to the gnawing trepidation that has tormented him all day.

He groans softly against the locker door. If only it was the only thing tormenting him. Memories of last night keep replaying in his head like a corrupted holo. The strange feel of her lips, the taste of her tongue, the heat and pleasure that took him by surprise... just thinking that he may never experience that again makes his body ache in withdrawal. Who could have guessed he would ever feel that for a Human? The more he tried to keep his urges hidden, the more he knew he was fighting a losing battle. How was he supposed to deal with that if she didn't want to have anything to do with him outside of work now?

"Are you okay?" Liara's concerned voice suddenly pulls him out of his thoughts and he straightens from the locker.

She opens her locker and silently stows her own gear, glancing at him and patiently waiting for his reply.

"Yeah..." He glances away. "I… huh… gotta go, fill the report with Shepard." He starts walking away, a slight slump in his shoulder.

"Garrus!"

He stops and looks at her over his shoulder.

"If you ever feel the need to talk to someone, my door is always open," she offers with an understanding smile.

He just looks at her dumbly for a few seconds, as something occurs to him, and he wonders why he hadn't considered it sooner. If anyone on this ship knows more than they let on, it's the Shadow Broker herself. How much has she figured out already? The thought is off-putting, and in case she's not fully aware of how deep the mess he's in is, he'd rather play it safe for now. He knows her concern is genuine though, and he's grateful for that.

"Thanks, Liara. I'll keep that in mind." He nods and resumes walking.

The moment he enters the war room is when his hand really start shaking. She's sat on the counter next to the war terminal and her crutches, and he can see the side of a datapad in her hand. He carefully approaches her, unsure of how to make his presence known. This was painfully awkward.

"Shepard?" He settles for neutrality, clasping his unsteady hands behind his back.

She abruptly turns to him, eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Ah, Garrus." Her eyes shoot back to the datapad. "I was almost done writing the basics." She presses a few buttons and looks back at him. "Just need the details from your side now."

Her smile is small but genuine. He resists the urge to widen his eyes and flare his mandibles in surprise. This is not what he had anticipated. Granted, he always tended to prepare for the worst, but still. This is just too normal. He barely pays attention as she skims through what she has written so far. Instead, his brain is overheating with the effort of multitasking between gathering up the details of a mission that already feels like cycles ago, and trying to analyze the possible causes of her current behavior.

It shouldn't be hard for her to figure out he should not have "woken up" on his own, right? Or are hypnotized people supposed to wake up at some point without being prompted? Damn, he should have read that memoir. What should he do? Tell her that he thinks he fell asleep on her? Right after so long on leave, would she even buy his lack of suspicion? No way she would, she's too smart for that. Then again, this whole mess is proof that she may be severely lacking judgment when it comes to personal issues. However, this is too obvious to be ignored, even if she does. Back to square one, then. Why the hell is she so relaxed after that? It just doesn't make any sense.

She ask questions he barely registers, and he hears himself answer on autopilot while his brain runs in circles. It would be disturbing in any other situation, but he doesn't care. He's too busy trying to process a high complexity algorithm his hardware can't compute, in an extra-corporeal subprocess that's eating up all his resources. He doesn't even realize they're done with the report until she asks an unrelated question that suddenly brings his brain-frying to a screeching halt.

"Huh?" he says intelligently, turning towards her.

She raises an eyebrow at him, visibly not having expected him to zone out.

"I said you did a great job and I'm considering retiring and letting you kick the Reapers' asses." She draws an arch with her open palm, staring ahead. "Garrus Vakarian, savior of the galaxy. How does that sound?" She looks back at him with a smirk.

The mischief in her eyes only throws him off further, and he has to force his mouth shut for a second not to splutter while he focuses back to the real world. Then he closes his eyes, shaking his head.

"You wouldn't. You'd come back to watch my six anyway, you'd miss me too much." He glances at her with a weak smirk. How he just pulled that one off, he has no idea. He only hopes there's more where that came from.

He's so focused on his mission to avoid giving away... whatever is left to give away that he doesn't notice her subtle wince.

"Heh. You'd beg me for help before you go shooting bitchy rulers and officials." She snickers, hopping down from her perch.

He snorts spontaneously, surprised by how easily she made them fall back into their usual banter, slowly draining the tension off his back.

"Damn. Am I really that predictable?" He puts a hand on his chest and looks at her, feigning offense.

"Don't worry, big guy. You're still a bad Turian," she assures with a mock tender smile, as if she were reassuring a child. "Some things just never change." She chuckles and gently slaps his upper arm. "C'mon, let's go get you something to eat, you must be starving."

She gathers her crutches and starts hobbling towards the exit.

"Can't argue with that." He shakes his head with a tired smile, and follows her.

He's momentarily distracted from his slowly fading anxiety as his eyes wander on her back and hips when she hops up the small flight of stairs, and her voice almost startles him when she waits for him to join her.

"By the way, kudos for stopping Samara. Justicars and their Code, I swear... Sure it's a good thing such a power is under strict control, but killing yourself in the middle of a war that needs you for the sake of following protocol?" She shakes her head, gathering the crutches in one hand to open the door to the conference room.

"Yeah. But at least she was flexible enough to accept a compromise. She's going to be a formidable asset in this war." He follows her in the conference room.

"Without a doubt."

She stops, and he takes a couple more steps for him to realize she's not beside him anymore. He turns to her and sees her frowning at the floor.

"Garrus," she starts, lifting her head to look at him. "Look, about yesterday night..."

All the tension that had been gradually fading immediately returns to his muscles tenfold in the span of a millisecond, making him dizzy. Not trusting his voice to function properly, he simply nods. Here it comes.

"I..." She looks away. "I barely remember any of it."

What?

"I kinda took meds that already don't necessarily mix very well with alcohol on a good day, and with how exhaus-"

"You did what?" he almost yelled, grabbing her shoulder. He didn't even realized he took the large step separating them.

She winces, still not looking at him.

"Yeah, I know. Bad idea." She rolls her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me? Spirits, Shepard, I... with how much I put in your glass..." He releases her shoulder, and groans, a hand on his face and tilting his head backwards.

He couldn't believe it. Not only he drove himself crazy over something she could very well have no recollection of, but she had let him unknowingly put her health in jeopardy. He knew her sense of self-preservation is not exactly high out of the field but that was ridiculous. He can't decide if he should be pissed or relieved.

"Whoa don't flip out, big guy," she says, taking her crutches in one hand and raising the other in a placating gesture, as he starts to pace, holding his head. "Not the first time it happened, won't be the last. I just usually don't have an audience." She waves her hand dismissively.

"And this is supposed to make it look better?" He turns to her, arms open before letting them fall heavily on his sides.

"No... Look..." She pinches the bridge of her nose, before lifting her hand as if it would make her more convincing while not meeting his eyes. "I was extra exhausted so I guess this is why it was that bad. I never had that much of a lapse."

"Shepard, please don't do that anymore." He puts a hand back on her shoulder, more gently this time. "You need meds? Nothing wrong with that. You need a drink sometimes? So do I. But for the love of all the Spirits of Palaven, no more hazardous mixing."

She looks at his worried face for a second and bursts out laughing. Taken aback, he releases her shoulder and takes a step back.

"Yes, mom," she says, still snickering. "Seriously Garrus, if people knew the big bad Archangel is an overprotective cherub on the inside..."

"An overprotective what?" He frowns. How can she be so blithesome while putting her health at risk?

"Never mind." She waves her hand, still grinning. "I'll be careful, I promise. Still, I'm amazed you didn't notice I was high as a kite."

Garrus freezes again. Here comes the massive plot hole he didn't manage to fill earlier. What should he do? Between the lack of time and his sudden panic, he blurts out the only thing he came up with.

"I..." He scratches the side of his neck. "I think I, huh, dozed off at some point. Sorry... Next thing I knew, you were asleep... on me." He looks away, unable to look at her while lying so blatantly.

"Oh... sorry about that."

He chances a glance at her. She's looking away, and her visible cheek has taken a reddish hue. Blushing. Isn't that a sign of embarrassment? He can't help the guilty satisfaction at seeing her flushed because of him. Knowing he has such an effect on her does wonders to his self-confidence. He almost misses the fact that she seems to buy his lie. It doesn't make him feel any better, but at least, now they can move on, right?

Right?

"Don't worry, I, huh, didn't mind." He smirks weakly. "I'm just glad you could hibernate it off."

She snorts.

"Yeah, you can say that again." She takes her crutches back in both hands, turning towards the bridge. "C'mon, let's hit the mess."

She starts walking with him by her side, but stops again before reaching the door. He looks at her inquisitively above his shoulder, and sees her raising an eyebrow at the bulkhead near the door. When he looks in the same direction, he realizes she's just spotted the dent he left there with his fist the other day. He turns back to her, and she's looking at him with her eyebrows raised in a silent question. He just shrugs in response and resumes walking.

They finally exit the conference room, both with the heavy, uneasy impression of having dodged a massive bullet, but still feeling the stinging burn where it grazed their skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh... sorry for this chapter... yeah, again.
> 
> [Yeah, totally me at work these days.](http://creativeimages.deviantart.com/art/I-HAVE-HOMEWORK-VAKARIAN-293028708) Please tell me I'm not the only one... ^^' (Disclaimer: still not mine)


	12. Tease

Ever since Lesuss, Shepard had a hard time keeping herself busy. Reports, consultancy and planning could only take so much of her time and she was getting more frustrated with her splint every day. Not only she was unable to train properly, but even the most menial tasks were a nightmare for her shallow patience. Put the crutches away. Take them back. Lean them on the wall. Pick them back up from where they slipped and fell. Plan convoluted strategies to move objects in walking distances without needing to use her otherwise busy hands or spilling everything. It was seriously driving her bonkers.

Thankfully, it's almost over. Only a few hours and she'll be free.

They spent the rest of her recovery time traveling around the Nimbus Cluster to scavenge a few resources and get a few ancient documents from the Library of Asha. Garrus, EDI and Liara just returned from Trategos where they found a Reaper weapon they could dismantle, and they managed to bring its intact barrel back on board for study. All in all, it has been time wisely spent. But it has to stop.

She really needs her autonomy back, to stop this atrocious feeling of weakness and uselessness. She doesn't feel like herself when she's not in full control of her body, and it never fails to affect her self-confidence. Feeling weak is feeling undeserving. Feeling useless is feeling worthless. Most of the time, she manages to keep face, but it's wearing thin. Every little thing that escapes her control starts to throw her off-balance and it shouldn't be long until her uncertainties start to show on the surface.

And Garrus is not helping.

She barely had the time to come to terms with the fact that there was much more to her best friend than she had originally thought, when his behavior started to change even further. It was subtle, and it took her some time to realize it, but it was there. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what had changed though, aside from a few details. The only thing she was sure of is that he was getting harder and harder to predict. She could feel an instability in him that wasn't there before. Granted, he always had a quick temper for a Turian, but this was different.

He would alternate between somewhat distancing himself and getting closer to her than he ever was before. Some days she would hardly see him at all and the rest of the time, he would follow her like a shadow, teasing her significantly more than usual. As much as she enjoys his company, it's unsettling in more ways than one. Not only does it worsen her feeling of losing control, but the sudden periods of unusual proximity are dangerously threatening the waning control she has over her attraction to him. She's close to feeling cornered.

In hindsight, it probably started around the same time she hypnotized him, and it's worrying her. What if she had induced that shift in behavior? If it's the case, how can she fix it? Even if she's pretty sure the trigger is still valid, she cannot possibly rely on it anymore. For one thing, she could worsen the situation in the process, but after the Lesuss fiasco, she's not too keen on repeating the experience. This is too unpredictable, both because of potential external influences and because she doesn't trust herself anymore around him in this state. Too many lines have been crossed already.

All things considered, the best she can do now is to reestablish some sort of normalcy between them. To just be the bedrock she's supposed to be in her ship and let them both lean on that. Easier said than done when she's in such a fragile state herself, but hiding the cracks under the paint of her superficial confidence is the story of her life. Fake it 'til you make it. She's managed it so far, she can't fail now.

And ditching the damn splint will help, no doubt about it.

Until then, she'll have to do what she can with her current predicament. Thankfully, one of the things that have cemented their close friendship is exactly within the scope of her capabilities. Pranks. She couldn't really do anything elaborate, but sometimes the simplest things were the most effective. Besides, she needed to get back at him for both the flour bomb and enjoying himself too much at her expense. That, and she was currently bored out of her mind. The trip to the Far Rim was already planned and she was up to date with all her messages, which was rare enough an occurrence to point out. She needed action like she needed air.

Besides, she couldn't deny that the part of her that resents Garrus for making the room hotter every time he would get too close for comfort was looking forward to getting a little revenge.

Trying to remain impassible, she pretends to be listening to Campbell and Müller from where she's sitting on the kitchen counter. They had already been chatting for a while around the coffee maker when they offered her a cup, and the perfect opportunity to set her plan in motion. She doesn't have a clear view of the mess hall with her back turned, but she can still see both the entrance to the main battery and the way to the men's bathroom from the corner of her eyes. All she has to do is wait for Garrus to come out for a well deserved shower.

She absently sips on her coffee while patting on her right pocket to check if her screwdriver is still there. Yep. She spots a clean rag next to the sink. Perfect.

She knows it's evil and a shitty thing to do to a Turian, but he has it coming. If she's honest with herself, it's not really about his last prank anymore, but more about the recent relentless teasing. It's driving her nuts and she knows she's venting, but she's too pent up to care about being the better person right now. Besides, she knows he's expecting something of that magnitude, but it didn't deter him one bit.

He wants to play dirty? With her of all people? Very well. Game on.

She hears the hiss of the main battery's door and finishes her coffee while putting on her best act to make it look like she's actually interested in the conversation in front of her. Soft footsteps pass her by. When they're far enough, she throws a quick glance at her left. Garrus is in his undersuit, a spare one thrown over his shoulder and his toiletries in hand.

She spends one more minute on counter, then thanks Campbell, giving her the empty cup and hops down, excusing herself. She grabs the rag on her way and hobbles towards the men's bathroom. She pauses and listens. The shower is running. Good. She approaches the narrow panel on her right, just before the corner. She glances around, there's no one nearby. Lucky.

She quickly unscrews the panel and opens it. Inside, several pipes run vertically, and two of them have a tap. One is blue, the other is red, and radiating heat. She takes the rag and puts it on the hot handle, and counts down in her head.

3... 2... 1...

She shuts the tap, and a very loud, very flanged and incredibly undignified squeak resonates from the bathroom.

Wait, squeak?

She can't contain herself anymore and doubles over in laughter, clutching her stomach. When the bathroom doors hiss open, she tries to wipe the tears off her eyes, still giggling uncontrollably.

"Holy shit Garrus, I never knew Turians could make sounds like that, that was..."

Her words die on her tongue at the sight before her. She had expected it, theoretically, but was too busy plotting revenge to pay attention to the possible implications of such an eventuality.

There stood a growling Garrus, a hand clutching at the door frame and the other securing an Alliance issue towel around his angular hips, towering menacingly in all his wet, naked, predatory glory. The weak remnants of her mirth barely manage to save her face but her eyes are out of control and roam freely over his exposed body. She had never seen him naked, and she instantly knows she just shot herself in the foot yet again, as that sure is a sight she can never unsee. Not that she ever would want to, but it's absolutely not going to help.

He's beautiful. A scaly, pointy, very Turian kind of beautiful. She had seen holos of naked Turians, mostly educational, and none of them did him justice.

His shoulder and long limbs are on the thicker side, muscular yet graceful, an impressive testament to his strength and skill as a soldier and a survivor. The rim of his hard, plated cowl falls down on his chest in twin, graceful arcs, gradually blending in the thinner pectoral plating that fades into scattered pebbles at the edge of his abdomen. Under the broad expanse of exposed hide, defined muscles ripple with every heavy breath, hastening droplets of cold water to glide faster down his deceptively narrow waist to die on the folded rim of his infuriating towel. The light plates are almost glistening with wetness and create a mesmerizing aura around his powerful figure, proudly standing on two strong feet whose shape and thick, sharp talons almost make her feel like a little girl facing the big bad wolf she knows she can never outrun.

She forgets how to breathe.

Gradually getting over his indignation, Garrus realizes she never finished her sentence. He can feel her eyes on his body, studying every nook and cranny while she stands frozen in place. He didn't think twice about coming out with just a towel around him, but now he's starting to feel a bit nervous. What exactly does she see? He never felt particularly modest but he almost forgot how alien his appearance must look like to a Human. Hell, usually, the rest of the crew avoided the showers when he was there. He never minded since he instinctively avoided them as much, not really wanting to see their weird, flaccid, exposed junk dangling at all times, so he almost forgot he had to be careful.

And here he stands almost naked in front of a gaping Shepard. Now that was awkward.

To defuse the situation and hide his growing embarrassment, he opts for the only thing that crosses his mind, turning his hopes into a half joke. He straightens, leaning on a hip, lightly puffing his chest and cocking his head to the side in a teasing gesture.

"Like what you see, Shepard?"

That effectively jolts her out of her trance and her lingering smile vanishes. She realizes she's been staring for longer than what could pass as initial shock, and she feels warmth instantly shoot up to her face. In panic, she instinctively reacts with aggressiveness. She's cornered, and she can't help it.

"You wish," she retorts, throwing the rag to his face with a nervous smirk.

Smooth, Shepard.

He doesn't dodge, and it lands with a soft flump.

The low, rumbling chuckle that escapes his throat when he releases the door frame to pull the rag off his face send a sudden wave of heat down her spine that pools and settles between her thighs. She absently notes that not even five minutes have passed after she set her plan in motion and it's already backfiring, hard.

"That was harsh though. You know how we deal with the cold." He shoots her a hard stare but can't help his mandibles from twitching at the sight of her raging, traitorous blush.

Oh, so she is enjoying the view after all. He can feel some of his confidence coming back and pushing him forward. How much can he get away with today?

"Oh c'mon, Garrus, it's just a cold shower." She crosses her arms. "Maybe I could plan our next shore leave on Noveria to amp up your thermal resilience a bit?" She tries for a sly grin, forcing her eyes to remain on his face and willing her heart rate to get back to a reasonable pace.

A flicker of horror briefly crosses his eyes and his mandibles twitch in concern, but he recovers quickly.

"You wouldn't." He snorts.

"No, I wouldn't." She lowers and shakes her head, still smiling, briefly closing her eyes. "Though I might seek new, creative ways to make you squeak again like that in the future." She looks up, grinning devilishly. "Totally worth it."

He grunts lowly, already knowing he's not going to hear the end of it anytime soon. Trust Shepard to fight back harder, even with a face red enough to stop skycars mid-flight. Fine. Time for the next level. He distantly feels some instincts kicking in, spawn by the obvious challenge thrown at him by his... interest. If she thinks he's going to go down that easily, she's in for a surprise.

"Bring it on, Shepard." He slowly walks the few steps that separate him from an invasion of her personal space. "Should I seek ways to make you squeak too?"

He's now centimeters away from her, much too close for comfort, looking her in the eyes with the same intensity he seems to display lately when he's teasing her the hardest. Without his visor on, it seems all the more intense, as if nothing is shielding her from it anymore, and it feels like he's seeing right though her.

The sight of him towering over her, wet and naked, looking like he's seconds away from eating her alive sends waves of heat up and down her body, and she feels the sudden rush of blood towards her crotch, instantly making her throb with want and anticipation. Yet, she refuses to budge.

She instantly sees herself back in her quarters, when she was straddling him, burning with a desire that took her by surprise, and the Garrus of her memories is not in heavy armor anymore, but wet and naked with a skimpy towel around his hips. How would it feel to smear those lucky droplets of water all over his chest? What would it be like to lick them off the soft hide of his neck? How would he react if she did the same to his reportedly sensitive waist?

No, not the time for that. Back to reality, Jane. Don't let him win this round. Say something. Anything would do at this point.

She laboriously steels herself and frowns, glaring right back at him, and blurts out the first thing that crosses her mind.

"You're too close." Well, no shit. She suppresses a groan.

His rumbling another chuckle and her panties suddenly feel very wet. Shit. Does he even know what he's doing to her?

"My apologies, Commander," he says, stressing her rank with the best bedroom voice he can perform, not even trying to clamp down on his lewd, purring subharmonics. "But I need to..." He leans on his left, reaching behind her to grab the tap with the rag he's still holding, and his face is now dangerously close to her right ear. "Reach... the handle." He opens the water with a jerk of his arm. "And you're in the way."

He releases the handle and takes a step back, straightening, and takes a couple of seconds to admire his handiwork. She's completely frozen, eyes wide and jaw slack, and redder than he ever thought to be possible. He proudly contemplates the fact that he's the one who put the deadly, fearless Commander Shepard in such a state of arousal induced daze. But as her now familiar scent starts to float in the air, he quickly moves before it makes his composure crumble.

"Now if you will excuse me," he says, placing the rag on top of her head. She doesn't even react. "I have a shower to finish."

He about-faces and walks back to the bathroom. Once inside, he hangs his towel with a sigh, suddenly feeling drained. The growing erection pushing at his plates demands attention, and he already knows he's not going to resist until he's back in the main battery. Public showers wanking it is.

While he sets the shower controls to a Turian-friendly temperature again, he can't help but feel impressed with himself. Not so long ago, it would have never occurred to him that he would ever dare hit on her so unabashedly. Or even hit on her at all. But lately, he has seen her fucking up so hard that it somehow shattered the pedestal he used to always place her on. Having her crossfading herself on him had been the last straw. Seeing her so flawed, so imperfect should have disappointed him, but no. If anything, it makes her more accessible, made him realize she's not so far out of his reach, not so different from him. He was finally seeing her as an equal, a fellow soldier, a woman. Not a hero. It's liberating in many ways, and he's done holding back.

Outside, Shepard blinks dumbly, reaching up for the rag still sitting on her head. Still half-dazed, she closes the panel, gathers her crutches, makes a beeline to the elevator and slams the call button.

The fuck just happened?

She repeats the scene in her head, over and over again, until she realizes she's in her quarters. Once inside, she goes straight to her bathroom and mechanically disrobes, leaving a pile of discarded clothes on top of her crutches. She turns on the shower and steps inside, letting the water tear her out of her trance. She slips a finger between her folds and gasps. Has she ever been so wet? She closes her eyes and thinks back on how close Garrus's head had been to hers when he reached...

Wait.

She opens her eyes, now feeling fully awake. Reach? Now that her brain has recovered some of its basic functions, this sounds very familiar. How could she not connect the dots right away? Oh that bastard actually quoted himself, from a very, very interesting conversation he knew she didn't forget. Apparently, he didn't either. So he managed to slip in a subtle reminder of his allegedly above average size in the process. Damn him. She probably would want to punch him if she didn't have other... priorities right now.

She lets her head fall back with a long, low groan as she moves her finger around, feeling how swollen her clit is. She's already over-sensitized, almost to the point of being painful. He had been so close. She could feel his body heat licking her skin and his breath tickling the fine hairs of her neck. She's sure he was close enough that he could have tasted her skin if he had stuck his tongue out.

Oh fuck. How could she forget that?

A distant, blurry memory suddenly makes its way back to her attention. A memory of her lips pressed on his. Of her tongue darting out to tease his mouth plates. And the very unexpected, very interesting feeling of his tongue literally curling around hers.

It's fucking prehensile.

All the potential of such an appendage suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. Just imagining all the things his tongue could do on her body, in her body, while her fingers seem to have acquired a mind of their own, sending jolts of mind-numbing pleasure so intense she can feel them in her toes, is enough to push her over the edge so fast that it takes her by surprise. She collapses on her knees with a cry of pleasure and her vision briefly dims.

She stares at the drain for a couple of minutes, immobile, one hand still between her thighs and the other still gripping the shower control panel tightly. The only sounds in the room are her labored breathing and the sound of the water hitting her shoulder blades. While she recovers from what has to be the quickest orgasm in masturbation history, she contemplates the recent events, now seeing more clearly without the thick fog of her arousal.

He had seemed so big, towering over her. No, this isn't really accurate. Rather, he had made her feel small. Like a predator on the hunt making his prey cower under the weight of his dangerous presence. Well, he was one, technically speaking. But she had always seen him as the honest, loyal, reliable soldier and friend he was, sometimes she could almost forget he's a Turian. He always was Garrus to her. But that... she just had a glimpse of a side of him she didn't know he had. That was an assertive, smooth, sensual Garrus she had yet to be acquainted with, and now that she knew he had it in him, she wasn't sure she'd be able to look at him the same way again.

Because that Garrus was hot as fuck.

As if she needed any more reasons to want him.

Part of her is a bit disturbed by the fact that the thrill of danger she felt when he loomed over her turned her on so much, but I doesn't really surprise her either. She always was an adrenaline junkie, so no wonder it would rub on her tastes in men. She realizes no Human men could ever make her feel like that, back when she still had a sex life. Most likely, she tended to intimidate them to an extent with her lovely personality, so none of them ever had the confidence to defy her like that. Leave it to her to need a space predator with sharp teeth and claws to satisfy her desires...

She slowly stands up, wincing as her knees had begun to fall asleep, and gives herself a quick scrub before heading out. As she dries herself, she tries to understand what could have possibly motivated him to push her buttons like that.

There was no denying his teasing got a lot worse as of late, but this just now was on a whole new level. A shiver of dread travels up her spine as she realizes there are only two reasonable explanations to his behavior. Either he has figured out she's attracted to him and has fun at her expanse, or he doesn't and he's actually hitting on her. Either way, the situation is serious.

However, the first one doesn't really hold water. Garrus is not mean, and certainly not a bully nor an idiot. He wouldn't do that to her, especially if he knew it could have potentially dangerous consequences on the battlefield. So that leaves her with the second explanation.

And suddenly, everything makes sense.

That strange behavior he's been displaying ever since that fateful experiment. The sudden closeness he seemed to seek constantly. The relentless teasing that was no longer him poking fun at Human mating behaviors but more about flustering her in the most creative ways possible.

It was all her fault.

She has induced this behavior in him by taking advantage of him while his unconscious was bare. And now he has that delusion of wanting her firmly planted in his head.

She sits on the toilet with her towel around her neck and rests her elbows on her knees. She has no idea how to fix that. And now, she had to endure the man she wants flirting with her, knowing it's not real; not him.

She doesn't bother holding back her tears this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much [tyrantmoves](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrantmoves) for the grammar corrections and [topsypervy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/topsypervy/pseuds/topsypervy) for the vocabulary! ;)
> 
> And my sincere thanks to everyone who took a minute to leave a comment. They mean the world to me and give me the energy to keep going. I would never have written so much without you. <3
> 
> [Fanart of the day!](http://winterphoenix23.deviantart.com/art/Inglorious-Bosh-tets-439416970) (Still not mine)


	13. Talk

Garrus tugs at his collar while waiting for decontamination. Damn, those civvies were getting a bit tight. They were still comfy, but apparently he had put on a bit of muscle these past few months. Well, no wonder. Between the combats and all the training he tended to lose himself into to forget, albeit temporarily, about the war, his family, and more recently, Shepard's waist, that had to be expected. He considers taking a moment during their four days of shore leave to get a new outfit, but will he have the opportunity to wear it at all? Well, hope doesn't hurt, and it's been in short supply for too long already, so why the hell not. It's been far too long since the last time he did something so mundane.

At least, he knows his father and sister are alive. Well, that was two days ago. Hopefully that hasn't changed.

The airlock hisses open and he leaves the Normandy, heading for the dock's rapid transport terminal.

He's late, but he had had a lot of repair to do on his armor, and that needed to be taken care of immediately. No one knew when he would need it again, and the recent coup d'état served as a good reminder that the Citadel is not as safe as it looks. Turian military 101: always stow your gear in impeccable condition, always prepare for the worst. He just hopes Tali could handle her liquor better than the last time he saw her drink. They have a lot to catch up on, and with everything that happened they didn't really have the time to chat at all.

He settles in the skycar and sets a course to the Purgatory. He wonders if Shepard is there already. She had an urgent meeting with Councilor Irissa, and it could very well take a while.

The skycar takes off, and he slumps into the driver's seat.

Shepard... The more he thought he knew her, the less he understood her behavior. The cold shower had been harsh for a prank, but oddly welcome. A return to normalcy. An acknowledgment of their bond. Something that belonged to them and them only. It had given him a false sense of safety, and he had gone with the flow and given free rein to his urge to tease her.

Among all the reaction he had foreseen, clamming up altogether had been absent.

The next day, she barely talked, and he hasn't seen her smile ever since.

And by all the Spirits of Palaven and beyond, he couldn't understand what had gone so wrong. She wanted him, that much was clear. Now that this hypnosis crap was out of the way, she shouldn't have any hurdles left in the way. Unless...

He thinks back on the few men he had seen trying to seduce her, long years ago. She had rejected them on principle, as far as his understanding goes. Because they either wanted Commander Shepard and ignored the woman underneath, or they desired the pretty Human and couldn't handle the Commander. He was different, and he knew she knew it. But what if his analysis had been wrong all along? What if there was another reason to refuse them and he unknowingly falls in the wrong category? He doesn't know what to think anymore.

Or maybe the guilt she expressed when she thought he wouldn't remember her words was what was holding her back. He knows guilt. It has been a constant companion for far too long, its chilling presence constantly hovering above his head and eroding his sense of self worth every day, relentlessly. If it wasn't for Shepard and his sense of duty, it would have crushed him under its unforgiving weight. And he knows she's not immune to it either. She never needed her to tell him that to feel her struggle, but hearing her pained admissions made him realize she was closer to the crumbling point than he thought. She has one of the strongest, most intense Spirits he's ever felt in anyone, warm, shining bright light in a dark, cold galaxy, but even she has limits. As preposterous as it seems that he would be the final push towards them, it isn't entirely impossible either, and he can't take the risk to dismiss this hypothesis because of a personal bias.

He heaves a loud sigh. He needs to do something about that. They can't carry on with so much unresolved tension. Especially since it could have dangerous repercussions on the field.

She had avoided him gracefully during their mission in the Perseus Veil. She had conveniently brought Tali and EDI with her on the dreadnought and had put him in charge of rescuing Admiral Koris while she went to disable a Geth server. When his armor's systems suffered some heavy damage during the rescue, he knew he was benched for a while. He barely saw her at all.

He almost had a heart attack when she decided to take on a Reaper. On foot.

He had never felt so helpless in his life. His heart never soared higher than the moment she defeated it.

He never had a chance to share either with her.

The skycar finally lands and he makes his way through the bar's loud entrance. Nervousness seeps in his veins and sends a chill in his bones as he spots the crew, scattered around the lower bar and the closest round table. No signs of Shepard. He hesitates between relief and disappointment.

"Garrush!" Tali's voice is slightly slurred and loud enough to cover the music at such a close distance. She clumsily gets up from the table and walks to him to pull him into a quick hug. "I mished you!"

Apparently, alcohol tolerance doesn't come with admiralty. He chuckles, returning her embrace.

"Glad to see some things never change." He releases her and squeezes her shoulder. "Sorry I'm late." He waves in apology to Joker, EDI, Liara and Traynor, who were looking at them from where they sat at the table, visibly amused by the Quarian's antics. They waved in return, dismissing his apology.

Tali grabs his arm and pulls him towards the bar.

"C'mon, let's get you someshing to drink! You're waaaaay too shober!" She giggles.

"Can't argue with that," he admits with a laugh.

He waves at Cortez, Vega and Donnelly as they pass them by to reach the right corner of the bar where two empty stools await them. Tali takes the stool on the right side of the counter and he sits at the corner.

"So, whaddya want?" She almost collapses on her elbows. "I'm offering!" she announces with a loose fist raised, in a lazy gesture of victory.

"You don't have to, really," he says, raising his palms in a calming gesture, suddenly afraid she might have set her drunken mind on offering drinks to everyone and their cousin and bankrupt herself in the process. She had almost done that in the Dark Star once, a repeat was still likely.

"Hey, I'm kinda rich now. Itsh one of the veeeery few perks of being an Admiral, y'know? Don't be a shpoilshports and lemme shpoil a friend, for once!" She waves an accusing finger at his nose and he laughs.

"Alright, alright," he says, lowering her finger with his hand. "You win. Spoil me." His grin is uncontrollable. He had missed her too.

"Good boy." He raises a brow plate at her choice of words as she turns to wave the bartender. "Turian brandy. And a shtraw. Two. Please. Triple filtered." The bartender miraculously nods and she turns back to him.

"Word order matters, y'know?" He chuckles.

"Oh shut up." She lightly punches his arm. "He understood me jusht fiiiine."

"Well, that remains to be seen. If he comes back with one glass and two straws, let me order the other one." He smirks.

"Yeah, yeah. Sooooo..." She drawls, leaning her face on one hand for support, still swaying slightly. "Whatsh going on with Shepard? I've never seen her gloomy like that. Don't tell me you dumped her already?"

His spluttering is cut short by the bartender setting two glasses before them.

"Told ya," Tali proudly says pointing at the drinks, and promptly pays for them.

Ignoring her last words, he turns to her warily.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh c'mon Garrus, you two used to be joined at the hip, itsh not hard to figure out... so whatsh changed?" She manages to pull a serious tone despite the slurring and swaying. Maybe her tolerance improved a bit after all.

He takes a swig of his brandy and shakes his head.

"It's, uh... it's complicated. We never were... together." He stares at his drink pensively.

"What?" She drops her hand and stares at him in disbelief. "But she... you... Keelah... I thought that since the Collectors..." She shakes her head. "My friends are idiotsh."

He raises his brow plates at her.

"Huh... I missed something here. The Collectors?"

"You can't be that denshe can you? Did you not notishe how she looked at you?" She groans and sips on her straw.

Now that was interesting. And lamentable in so many ways. So she had been attracted to him since then? And all this time he had been completely oblivious to it? He wanted to bash his head on the counter. He always had assumed it all had started with the close proximity she had created during their hypnosis sessions, just like it had started for him. How could he have been so blind when he watched her six so closely? How could he not have read between the lines? Even during that first "dive", when she had expressed her fear of losing him, she said he was all she needed. He had assumed "in a friend" was left unsaid, but it had never been, had it? What else had been lost in translation?

"No, Tali. I'm that dense." He rests his face in his palm, elbow on the counter, feeling defeated.

"Urgh... If I had known you two would take so long I would have taken a chanshe on you..." She lets her head fall heavily on the counter with an audible thud, mumbling something about oblivious bosh'tets. Thank the Spirits for Quarian helmets, that would have hurt.

Wait, what?

"Tali, I'm not sure you're sober enough for this conversation," he offers carefully.

"Oh please, tsh'overdue." She waves her hand, head still on the counter. "And don't feel bad, I jusht wanted to try a hot Turian I can trusht with my suit, not give you my heart. Y'know I'm a Bellicus fan."

He bursts out laughing at that, half relieved he did not cause any permanent awkwardness between them, half amused by Tali's drunken boldness and crude words that were so unlike her they took him off guard. She has grown up so much since her pilgrimage. She was one of the few people who never failed to remind him why the galaxy is worth saving.

"Well, I'm still flattered." He sips on his glass and leans lower on his elbow to get slightly closer to her in a secretive stance. "Actually, I think I would have taken you up on your offer. Until, huh, recent developments, that is."

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead and rub dirt into the suit breach." She waves her hand again, still sprawled on the counter. "How am I shupposed to find another..." She abruptly sits up and almost falls off the stool. "Wait, what developments? Keelah, you're shpinning!"

He grabs her arm to steady her, chuckling.

"Let's say... hum..." He releases her and takes a large swig before continuing. "I'm that dense and then some. I, huh, very recently realized her... appeal." He turns his head to the side, in thoughtful embarrassment. "And now it's bordering on obsessive."

"And you used to be a C-Sec inveshtigator. Really, Garrus?" she deadpans, leaning towards him in disbelief.

"Yeah. Good thing I quit, hm?" He smirks.

"Whatsh holding you back then?" She tilts her head in puzzlement, ignoring his self-deprecating joke.

He turns back towards the counter, finishes his drink and leans on his elbows, sighing.

"I guess the circumstances are not... favorable. I'm not sure she's really... disposed to consider it. Besides, I'm starting to believe I've been doing something wrong." He tilts his glass to look at the bottom, as if it would tell him how to fix this.

Tali leans towards him and gently places a hand on his shoulder.

"Garrush... I'm half drunk and I'm not sure this is going to come out right, but I almost lost my entire people yeshterday. I know we've seen it coming but it never felt so real and this is jusht the beginning. We don't know if there even will be a tomorrow for us. What I mean is... if you both washte time... you both deserve a chance at happiness, more than anyone. And itsh now. Not that tomorrow that could very well never be."

She straightens and releases his arm, and he remains still, silent and pensive for a long minute.

He heaves a long sigh.

"That came out right," he says, almost too softly for hear to hear over the music.

"Think about it," she says, carefully standing up, still mindful enough of her precarious balance. She leaves with her drink and a friendly pat on his back.

She's right. She's painfully right and he knows it. The stunt Shepard pulled with the Reaper on Rannoch only served as a brutal reminder of the fact that life has never been so short. Still, here they are, dancing around each other like teenagers in basic. What the hell is wrong with them? He should tell her the truth like he should have on day one. After all, if either of them died tomorrow, it would still be better knowing that he grew a quad and tried than regretting not trying at all, regardless of how she handles the news. It will probably have an impact on their performance on the job, but would it be worse than now? Probably not. She's carrying guilt that should have never existed in the first place and it had to stop. At least, when she's pissed, she's still perfectly efficient, albeit brutally so. Guilt is just distracting, and if at least one of them can be freed from it, it's worth the risk. He knows her fear of bonding makes it a recipe for disaster as far as their friendship is concerned, but it's the right thing to do. Besides, it's probably doomed either way now.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Liara sit on the stool Tali just vacated. He can feel her eyes on him, and they're both reassuring and unnerving.

"You didn't come to me," she remarks in a friendly, careful voice.

He keeps playing with his empty glass on the counter.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry."

"That wasn't a reproach, Garrus. I'm worried." She leans a bit closer for privacy.

He glances at her.

"How much do you know?"

"Probably a bit more than anyone else and much less than you think. I'm your friend before I'm the Shadow Broker and I respect your privacy, but I'm observant. You and Shepard have obviously developed an unhealthy dynamic in your relationship and it's been affecting both of your behaviors during the past month. I don't know the specifics, but if I had to guess, I'd say it has to do with a lot of unresolved tension. I would understand If you don't want to talk about it, especially with me, but I wanted to make it clear that my offer still stands, and that I got over my infatuation with her a long time ago so it will not get in the way."

"I see. Thank you," he says with a weak smile she immediately returns.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asks carefully.

He straightens, and turns towards her.

"No, please stay." He chuckles. "Why is everyone suddenly interested in my love life tonight?"

"I take it Tali already prepared the ground?" She smiles warmly.

"You can say that. She just gave me a pep talk about how life is short and how much we deserve happiness."

"But she doesn't know the whole story, does she?" She absently waves the bartender away.

"No." He pauses, trying to find the proper way to word this without disclosing too much. "Liara, I messed up. We both did, actually. We lied to each other and only I know the whole truth."

She thinks for a minute, watching the people around them having fun as if the war never happened.

"And you're afraid that telling her the truth will jeopardize your friendship, and that you will lose her trust in the process," she finally concludes, still looking away, a serious expression on her face.

"Yeah, that's the gist of it." He shifts on the stool, slightly uncomfortable with both his admission and Liara's perceptiveness.

She stays silent for another minute. He would give a lot to know what is going through her head right now. Moments like these remind him that despite the appearances, she's a lot older and therefore has a lot more experience in life. She never talks about it, but surely she has had her share of romance and heartbreaks. If anyone can help him shed a new light on this mess, it's her. It doesn't make it any less nerve-wracking; he's not used to confiding in people. But as Tali said, tomorrow may never come and he needs this light now.

"But knowing the truth about her lies doesn't make you think any less of her, does it?" she finally asks, turning back to him.

"Of course not," he says with a sigh, lowering his head. "I mean, it didn't leave the way I see her unchanged, but... she's... I..." He looks her in the eye. "No. I don't. If anything, I'm even more afraid of losing her."

"Have you not considered it could be the same for her?" She smiles at him.

He shakes his head.

"It's a bit more complicated than that." He turns back towards the counter.

"I'm sure it is. But maybe it's also simpler than you think," she says, placing a comforting hand on his upper arm. "Garrus, you've been through thick and thin together already, why don't you have a little more faith in her?"

"Point taken," he says after a pause. "Thanks, Liara."

Her eyes flicker to the side and her warm smile is back.

"Any time."

oOo

When Shepard enters the Purgatory, it feels like she's just gone through a portal to another dimension. The music, too loud for comfort, the moist heat, the complex smell of sweat from multiple species mixed with a hint of paint, steel and alcohol, and the aggressive contrasts of the artificial lights throw her in a violent travesty of life and normalcy. She instantly revels in it. It's desperate, mindless, deafening, the perfect place to forget about the horrors of life and war. Just what she needed. She should come here more often.

Joker waves at her from a table and she waves back, but goes straight to the lower bar. She's dreamed about a nice cocktail during the whole trip back to the Citadel and she wants it now. It's pretty crowded, so she has to go to the right corner, where it's more accessible, and spots Garrus's back and Liara's profile.

She resists the urge to freeze and tries to ignore the painful jump of her heart. She has avoided him too much already, and as much as she dreads his behavior and hates the guilt of knowing she's the cause of it, she misses him dearly. Besides, he hasn't tried anything out of the ordinary since the shower incident, so she dares hope she's safe for now. She just needs to be careful not to give him any ammunition.

Walking on eggshells. When was the last time she did that? She can't even remember. It even had become a foreign concept to her, and she's not sure she still has the ability to do it properly. And yet here she is, already anxious about how she should greet them. If she doesn't put her foot in her mouth, she's willing to go back to believing in miracles.

When she approaches them, her heart beats uncontrollably faster and she has to take a deep breath to calm her nerves, with mild success. Liara spots her first.

"Shepard! I'm glad you came. How did the meeting go?" she asks with a warm smile.

Garrus's head turns so fast she briefly thought he snapped his neck.

"The news are not all good, I'm afraid," she says with an apologetic smile. "But we have an interesting lead." Liara nods with a frown. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Now, I need a drink." She sighs and rubs her forehead. Now is not the time to remind Liara about how hard Thessia is being hit.

"Sure, have my seat," Liara says, standing, her eyes betraying her awareness of what was left unsaid. "I've drunk enough for the night and I promised Gaby to team up against the Kenneth and James at a card game. Enjoy yourselves," she says with a wave and a coy smile.

She sits on the stool and waves at the bartender to catch his attention.

"That bad, huh?" He glances at her warily.

"Yeah. This going to be hard on her when we get there." She turns to him. "What are you drinking?"

"It's hard on all of us. I'm sure she knows what to expect." He raises and lightly shakes his glass. "Turian brandy. Courtesy of Tali. Still can't handle her liquor by the way." He smirks.

She chuckles as the bartender approaches them. He rejoices inside. Seeing her smiling and talking to him warms his heart. He had missed that a lot and seeing her down and knowing he had done something to cause that had hurt. And it will probably be nothing compared to the moment he will shatter her smile again by revealing the truth, but for now, he will just enjoy the company. Like she said, tonight, they just need a drink. Tomorrow will come soon enough.

"Another Turian brandy for my friend and a Memory Stealer."

"Right away." The bartender leaves to get their drinks.

"Memory Stealer huh? What's in that?" Garrus asks with a raised brow plate.

"You don't want to know." She shakes her head, chuckling. "Still, as much as she knows what to expect, seeing the real thing is something else entirely. You of all people should know that."

"Yeah." He sighs. "So we're going to Thessia?" He turns back towards her.

She thanks and pays the bartender as he places their drinks on the counter and takes a large swig of her drink. She leans closer to him for privacy, and he does the same.

"Apparently, there's a Prothean artifact there that could very well be the key to knowing what the Catalyst is."

"Are they sure it's still there? It's raining Reapers on Thessia. And bad weather aside, are we sure Cerberus didn't get wind of it?" He frowns.

"The Asari were extremely cautious, exclusively discussing the matter in person so let's hope for the best, but we should leave early to err on the safe side. As for its integrity, it's hidden in a temple but you're right, nothing is safe anymore." She nods. "I'll make an announcement tomorrow. We all need a break tonight." She straightens.

"Understatement of the Reaper cycle." He snorts and takes a large swig.

"How is your armor by the way?"

"Good, thankfully I had a spare motherboard and the wiring didn't take too much damage. Didn't have paint to cover the patch though," he says pensively.

"We're in the middle of a war and he's worried about looks." She snorts. "I swear you're the worst kind of perfectionist," she teases.

"It's protective paint, Shepard." He looks at her like she just said the dumbest thing in the world. "Besides, if we have to save the galaxy, gotta do it with style. For posterity."

"Are you insinuating I don't-" She's cut off by a light, flanged voice from the side.

"Garrus?"

They both turn towards the newcomer and are greeted by a young, pretty Turian. If Shepard had to guess, she would say she's in her mid twenties. Tall, her plates a light brown color and white marking that compliment the curves of her face and give her a soft look, yet her amber eyes have an intensity that speak of strength and pride. She instantly likes and dislikes her at once.

"Tavia!" Garrus greets, looking like a deer in the headlights.

"I didn't know you were back, how are you?"

"Sorry we, huh, just came back and we're having a night out with the crew. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the drink I owe you," he says with a smile.

So they must be close. Shepard can't repress the slight pang of something ugly, an unhealthy mix of betrayal and jealousy. Of course Garrus has a social life. One she doesn't know about, like he doesn't know everything about her either. But must said social life slap her in the face with a pretty girl of all things?

"It's okay, I know how it is. I'm not sure I even want to know what you guys butted heads with out there. I'm just glad you're safe." She nods in genuine understanding.

And must she be so nice on top of it?

"Thanks." He nods back. "Ah, This is Commander Jane Shepard. Shepard, This is Tavia Oronis, C-Sec. We met here during last shore leave."

Of fucking course she's C-Sec. And knowing what meeting in a bar on shore leave often meant for Turians, it's not hard to imagine how the night ended.

"Oh Spirits, Commander!" She extends her hand and Shepard shakes it, only to have it grabbed by two large and excited Turian hands. "It's an honor to meet you in the flesh. Garrus told me a lot about you."

She tries her best to force a smile, her hand still trapped.

"Pleasure, officer Oronis." Well, that came out colder than intended. At least, she releases her hand.

"I'm sorry, Commander. I just... You really saved the day during the Cerberus attack. I'm pretty sure I owe you my life again," she rambles, waving her hands around. "Thank you."

Damn. Gratefulness instead of requests, demands and orders are a nice change. Had the circumstances been different, they probably would have gotten along really well. And that somehow made it worse. How could she compete with that?

"Don't mention it." She waves the apology away. "I just did my job and I wasn't alone." She points at Garrus with her thumb with another forced smile. Defeated for defeated, she might as well help a friend. She turns to him. "I'm going to check on Tali, see if she's still standing. Haven't had a chance to chat with her properly yet. You two have fun." She stands and leaves with a wave and a pat on his upper arm, trying to ignore the urge to throw up and the lump in her throat.

He watches her go with a wave of his own, wondering where his voice has gone. That was awkward.

"So that was Commander Shepard. Wow. I can't believe I shook her hand."

He turns back towards Tavia, who has a star struck look on her face while sitting on the stool.

"Yeah," he answers softly, a little stunned.

What the fuck just happened? Did she really just get the wrong idea? After all that happened recently? As he tries to process what might have gone through her head, a thought occurs to him. Turians are known for being significantly more promiscuous than Humans and for regularly using sex as a socially acceptable way to relieve tension in the military. Did she misunderstand his advances for a generic symptom of stress and need for release, that only was directed at her because she happened to be the closest thing to a potential bed partner he had on the Normandy? Damn. If that was the case, he really needed to talk to her ASAP.

"She really is something. So tall for a Human female and she looks so strong... The vids never did her any justice. I'd give a lot to see her in action. If half of what you said about her is true, that must be an unforgettable experience," Tavia muses.

"It is." He nods.

She stays silent for a few seconds and frowns.

"I didn't interrupt something, did I?" Her eyes widen. "Oh Spirits how could I have been so dumb, she's the one!" She leans towards him, a hand flat on the counter. "She is, right?"

Garrus groans, leaning on his elbow and placing his face in his hand.

"Is it really that obvious? Damn. And here I thought discretion was one of my strong points."

"I knew it!" She grins predatorily. "Oh my, this is precious. So you and the Hero of the Citadel, huh? Wow. And you know what? I don't mind that you turned me down anymore." She giggles. "How could I compete with that? Sooooo..." she drawls. "Let me guess, you two are still dancing around each other, aren't you? She didn't look too pleased to leave us together, right?"

"Oh please not you too." He groans again.

"I take it I'm not the only one who tried to pry into it tonight." She giggles again, having way too much fun with this in his opinion.

"No you're not," he answers tartly.

"Hey, can you blame me? Seriously, this is unbelievably adorable, coming from two of the most famous heroes alive in the whole galaxy!" She squeals.

"Oh for the Spirits's sake," he says, rolling his head. Adorable? Really?

"That being said, she looks more upset about it than I thought." She frowns again, looking past him.

"What do you mean?"

"She just left the club." She points at the main entrance.

"What?" He suddenly turns around and back to her with panic clear on his face. Wasn't she supposed to stay with Tali?

"Yep, you probably should go." She nods towards the doors, with an understanding flick of her mandibles.

He looks behind him again and back to her, looking torn.

"Hey don't worry about me, I'm a big girl." She grins, holding her hands up in a sign of honesty.

"Sorry Tavia." He stands abruptly, and starts walking backwards, pointing a finger at her. "I promise next time I'll buy you that drink." He shakes his head. "Scratch that. All the drinks you want."

With that, he starts running towards the exit, leaving a giggling Tavia waving at him playfully from the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update... I just hit my first writer's block. T-T Thank you so much [topsypervy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/topsypervy) for your encouragements! :3
> 
> [Fanart of the day!!! :D](http://efleck.deviantart.com/art/Garrusanova-274930886) (Still not mine)


	14. Hurt

When the door closes behind her, Shepard heaves a long sigh. She ran away, yet again. And she hates herself for it, yet again. The knot in her stomach has yet to loosen and she feels like she's going to retch at any moment. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. It doesn't make her feel better. At least she tried.

She heads to the bathroom and fishes her meds out of her first aid kit, and pops two tablets in her left hand. She stares at them for a minute. Will she be able to keep them in? Groaning, she opens the water, swallows the tablets and tries to drink just enough water to ease them through her esophagus, hoping it will be a one way trip.

She leaves the bathroom quickly, before she can see herself in the mirror. She doesn't need to see her face right now. She doesn't need her reflection to stare back at her with accusing eyes, blaming her for her cowardice and selfishness. She probably looks like shit anyway.

She lets her feet carry her, not sure what to do with herself. They lead her down the flight of stairs, and stop in front of the bed, when they can't walk anymore without a conscious intervention on her part. She stares at it, and feels her throat constrict painfully. She still remembers where Garrus had sat when they had started... No. When she had started this whole mess.

It had felt so good to be held tight in his arms. It had felt like she could finally let go, bare herself whole without feeling vulnerable, finally be at peace with her demons, as if the sting of their teeth was not so scary anymore. The pain remained, but the venom was gone. Silly, silly Jane. She should have known that the less scared you are of monsters, the closer you're getting to turn into one of them, no matter how rightful the change feels. You're never the villain of your own story after all. Hell, she's sure even the Reapers really believe they are entitled to commit mass murder and genocide on a galactic scale.

She feels dirty and empty.

She turns around and sits on the floor, leaning her back on the foot of the bed, resting her arms on her knees.

Tavia... She could still see her eyes on Garrus, full of awe, respect and something more, something she guesses was restrained desire. Were her own eyes on him reflecting the same things when she looked at him? She'd never know. Lucky girl. She was young, visibly pretty by any standards, and more importantly... she was Turian. She never would have thought she would ever feel regret at being Human, but here she is, alone in her room, having definitively fucked things up between her and the only man that ever truly mattered more than her own life, and knowing that none of this would ever have happened if she belonged to his species.

For a moment, she regrets not accepting his advances. Maybe having already had a taste of what being held by this man would feel like would have made the thought of him holding another tonight less devastating. But the moment is gone, and she hates herself even more. Taking advantage of him that way would be no different from the Reapers using indoctrination to bend people to their will. And she just wished she did the same thing, not only to an innocent, but to the closest friend she ever had, just because she couldn't stand the thought of the hands of another woman on him. When had he crawled so deep into her battered heart?

Jealousy was a cold, ugly, lonely thing.

She looks at her hands and wonders how it would feel to have six fingers. How his hands look like underneath those gloves, how they would feel to the touch. She'll probably never know that either. And it hurts more than it should.

She blinks away the tears, surprised she has any left at all.

She jumps when EDI's voice breaks the silence.

"Shepard, Garrus is outside your quarters, requesting entry."

What? The hell is he doing here? She feels her stomach jump in her chest, landing in unexpected places and sending tingles of panic in her cheeks and fingertips.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her spinning head.

"Let him in."

"Right away. Logging you out."

The doors swoosh open and he hesitates for a second before stepping in. He had rushed here without really planing anything ahead, and now he realizes he's actually intruding on a moment she isolated herself on purpose. And justifying that meant tackling the issue of their mutual attraction, something he hadn't planned on doing tonight. Tonight, they were just supposed to have a nice night out with the crew, drinking and chatting and forgetting issues, not confronting them. Oh well. As far as he was concerned, the party was over as soon as she left the club anyway, so now is as good a time as any, and postponing endlessly didn't make anything easier.

The sudden urgency of the situation and the impending disaster send waves of adrenaline into his veins, making his limbs feel numb yet very much awake as he walks down the flight of stairs separating them. Her face is unreadable.

"I thought you'd be with Tali," he says lamely, not really knowing how to break the silence any other way.

"I thought you'd be with Tavia," she answers a little more coldly than she wanted, and instantly regrets her childish reaction when she sees him wince. That was unfair.

"Shepard, you need to unwind like everyone else on this ship, and sitting alone in your cabin hardly counts. Why don't we go back? I'm offering the next round," he offers, extending a hand towards her. Well, it doesn't hurt to try. What happened to not postponing anymore?

She stands up and crosses her arms. His hand falls back to his side as realization hits him hard. He should have questioned why she was there, if she was alright. He was not supposed to already partially know the answers to those questions and not feel the need to ask. The lines between their truths and lies were slowly fading, to the point where it was almost impossible to keep track of who knew what and what could or couldn't be said. He was so used to navigating through metaphorical landmines that he was not sure if he was still putting any effort into pretending. It almost felt wrong to stop completely. What had he become?

"I could say the same about you. You're a Turian in a Human ship. I won't pretend I know every subtlety of your species and culture, but I know enough to be aware that you have gone a little too long without any serious stress relief, since no one wants to spar with you except for me and I couldn't with the splint. Omega was ages ago." She frowns.

"I can wait." He frowns back. Yes, he's pent up to an unhealthy level, but he's not some rabid varren whose behavior is solely dictated by the most basic of urges. That was actually a bit offensive.

"And I can handle myself. Besides, you don't even have to. I may not be an expert in Turian nonverbal communication, but I'm pretty sure she was willing to help." Saying it out loud stings, hard.

"So?" He raises a brow plate, berating himself for letting his blooming anger erode his patience so easily.

"So, I need my crew in top shape, and I'm not going to sit back and watch you put your own health and performances at risk because you feel the need to babysit me."

"I don't f... babysit you? Really Shepard?" He spreads his arms in disbelief. "Did you seriously just pull rank on me to make me have sex with Tavia?" His eyes go impossibly wide. Is she for real?

"What? No!" She scowls. "Just... don't fucking ignore your own health! I can take care of mine!" She waves her arms around in frustration.

He crosses his arms and leans back on one leg.

"Right. Like you did when you crossfaded yourself on me?" Slippery slope, dammit.

Her eyes widen and her jaw goes slack for a moment.

"Fuck you, Vakarian." She points a finger at him accusingly. "I'm not taking that bait. That's none of your damn business."

"You've got to be kidding me!" he says, throwing his arms in the air and spinning round, as if he were talking to someone else. He turns to her and spreads his arms towards her. "You fainted on me, do you have any idea how worried you had me?"

"It's not like you were awake to see it," she retorts, crossing her arms and looking to the side, painfully aware that her argument was irrelevant.

Oh crap. He needs to deflect, and do it quick.

"Still, how does that compare to whether I get laid tonight? And why the hell were you just pushing me on Tavia?" He vaguely gestures towards the door behind him, scowling hard.

She winces. Both because she knows he's right and because she doesn't know how to explain her actions without giving too much away. And maybe just by hearing her name too. She hates feeling cornered.

"Well..." She runs a hand in her hair in a self-conscious gesture, still not meeting his eyes. "You two seemed close, I thought that-" He interrupts her.

"You thought?" He takes a step forward, waving a hand around. "You thought, Shepard? And what about what I want? With all that thinking, it never occurred to you that you could ask?"

He's furious. Not just because she disregarded the fact that he may have wishes and desires she couldn't necessarily anticipate or because she was still dodging the fact that he had shamelessly come on to her very recently as if it never happened. No, what infuriates him the most is that he's convinced she's just being selfless in her own twisted, convoluted way. She's willing to ignore her own health in favor of his when he's obviously better off if the shadows around her eyes are anything to go by, and she just backed off without even putting up a fight when faced with the first thing that vaguely resembled competition just to avoid getting in the way of whatever she thought she would get in the way of. Putting others' health before hers is nothing new, so as much as it's still unacceptable, it's no surprise either, but backing away from a challenge is so unlike her it makes his stomach hurt with a mix of anger and disappointment. It was just so wrong.

"Fucking fine!" She steps forward, throwing her arms in the air. "What do you want?"

Fuck it.

"You!" He steps forward again and grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her lightly. "I want you, Shepard! I thought I had made it clear enough already!"

She feels like she just got sucker punched and she forgets to breathe for a moment, trying to navigate through the pain, panic and the sick mix of loss and lust at seeing him so close, towering over her with so much intent in his eyes. She almost welcomes the thrill of it before remembering that she's not so much of a masochist that she would get off in despair and regret. Drowning, overwhelmed by the cold hands of her guilt clawing at her skin and pulling her deeper, echoing the feel of his hands squeezing at her shoulders, she reacts on pure instinct, uncharacteristically favoring flight over fight. Her arms come up between his and spread in a swift motion, effectively swatting his hands away, and she immediately takes a step back.

"Dive now."

His body reacts immediately, completely bypassing any conscious thought process. His shoulders slump and his head drops, and for a moment he wonders if he'd ever get rid of that reflex. Just considering how well his conditioning has turned out makes his stomach churn in self-disgust. He briefly wonders if he should drop the act before she speaks again.

"Garrus, you're..." She swallows the lump in her throat in hope that it wouldn't make her voice break again. "You're not attracted to me." Well, so much for not breaking.

The hell is she talking about?

"What you think is attraction," she continues while a tear escapes her waning control and rolls down her cheek, "is the result of my taking advantage of you while you were vulnerable to suggestion, it's not real."

His eyes slowly rise to her face, taking in the pain distorting her soft features into something he instantly hopes to never witness again, while he processes the new information. So that was what was holding her back all along. It made sense in a way, suggestion was one of the main purposes of the technique so it wasn't much of a stretch to come to such a conclusion. He had been so driven by his own overflowing desires and longing that it never crossed his mind that they could have been interpreted as fabricated. His heart clenches painfully at the thought of how much guilt and restraint she must have gone through while harboring such beliefs.

"Garrus, I want you to forget everything that ever happened while you were in this state." Another tear breaks free. "You will not fall back to this place if I say 'dive now' ever again. You will be free." The words sound like they're tearing her throat apart, contrasting with the resolute frown that suddenly strengthens her expression.

He's stunned. As much as he wants to react, say something, do something, his mind is blank. Slowly, every piece of the puzzle finds its rightful place as he realizes what exactly has happened it that head of hers, and the picture slowly forming is dark, cold, lonely and oh so wrong. He had no idea. And now, she is severing the last fragile bond she has left with what little she thought she could have of him.

If only she knew.

"Now", she starts, clenching her eyes shut, "go have fun with the one you really want because you know you need it as well as I do." She quickly dries her eyes with the heels of her hands.

That hurt. But somehow, she feels lighter. Broken but liberated. She can let go, or at least finally work on it, try her best to move on. Go back to her comforting loneliness where the fear of heights can't make her knees weak and her heart dread the inevitable bite of loss. He may not understand, but they were past the need for that. He just had to accept the new distance, it would be her last personal request to him.

Clap clap.

She never anticipated his sudden growl, nor his body closing in again, one hand grabbing her hair, the other circling her waist as his mouth plates almost painfully collide with her lips. His grip is so tight that all the air leaves her lungs in surprise while her eyes feel like they're ready to pop out of their sockets. She desperately grabs his arms to steady herself as her head starts to spin and she's not sure if her feet touch the ground anymore.

It ends as abruptly as it started and he pulls away, his hand still tightly gripping at her hair, sending small jabs of pain in her scalp. Before she can gather her wits and comprehend what just happened, he closes in again, pressing his forehead on hers and his low, deep voice wraps around her like a warm blanket so thick and tight she feels like she's choking.

"I want you to listen carefully what I'm about to say, because I will probably never have a chance to say it again, so please..." He briefly closes his eyes and sighs. When he opens them again, he pulls away just far enough to pierce her with his gaze and tenses. "I want you, Shepard. Not Tavia, not anyone else. And I've never wanted anyone so bad in my entire life. This is crazy. We can't keep going like this, with so much left unsaid between us and that's why I have to come clean. I..." He takes a deep breath, breaking eye contact. "I never was hypnotized, it was meant to be a prank and it got out of control, and I have no words to express how sorry I am. I lied to you and I would und- oof!" He releases her as soon as her fist collides with his abdomen, hard.

"You what?!" she shrieks in a high-pitched voice so unlike her it hurts more than her punch.

He straightens, still keeping his head low and looking to the side, a hand cradling the side she hit him on.

"Hypnosis... apparently doesn't work on Turians. I'm sorry." He closes his eyes, not wanting to loo at her face right now, afraid of what he would find there.

She can feel heat and tingles seep under her skin as panic and mortification peak inside her, higher than she ever thought to be possible. Her mind is reeling, flooded by memories of all those times she thought he wasn't conscious, trying to go through everything she had said and done at once. The result, a jumbled mess of embarrassment and shame, is brutal. She had believed she was safe with him, that she could trust him. She felt betrayed, violated, she could almost feel the cold bite of the blade in her back and the blood pour in her lungs, drowning her. Slowly, rage starts to burn from deep within her chest, spreading through every nerve like wildfire, numbing her senses. Anger, she knew. Anger, she could deal with. Yeah, that. Much better.

His eyes still closed, he didn't see her fist coming. He had expected it, but the force of it sends him stumbling backwards, and he has to grasp the back of the nearest reclining chair to keep from falling. The side of his face throbs painfully and through the dizziness he vaguely remembers hearing a crack. He barely has the time to let his eyes focus back on reality, on her, before she throws herself at him with a loud roar, her eyes wide and ablaze with unleashed fury.

Punches and kicks are thrown at him in rapid fire and he barely dodges most of them, the rest landing with bruising force, forcing him to feint and counter attack in the most creative ways to avoid hurting her too much. He's at a disadvantage and endures more than he can control, but he can't help but have a new appreciation of her close quarters combat abilities. He knew she was holding back to a certain extent when they sparred, but he hadn't realized she was this deadly without biotics. Fear courses through his veins, heightening his focus and vibrating through his limbs and he knows he's teetering at the edge of his own control, that she's close to doing serious harm, her body periodically flickering with barely contained mass effect fields.

She's magnificent.

Soon enough, her own focus wavers, and her hits start lacking power as she lets out a pained mixed of a howl and a cry. He deflects a sloppy punch and grabs her wrist, twists it to destabilize her forward and spins around her arm to grab her elbow and drag her body with the momentum, making her fall face-first on the floor. Before she recovers, he twists her arm behind her back, straddles her and grabs her in a headlock.

For a long minute, the silence is only broken by his heavy breathing, her soft, choked sobs and the occasional struggle.

"Why?" she chokes out with a broken voice. "Why did you do this to me?" She pauses, gritting her teeth. "Why you? Not... you... please not you..."

He lowers his head to her temple, nuzzling her briefly, still keeping a tight grip on her. What should he respond to that? His heart dies a little at every word she forces out and he's not sure he can ever find a way to express the pain and regret that will probably haunt him for the rest of his life.

"I knew this would happen when the first tear fell on my shoulder on that fateful day," he whispers, his words barely audible under the unrestrained subharmonic cry of pain, loud enough for her to hear so close to her ear. "I'm a coward. I should never have waited so long. And I'm guilty of having enjoyed it too. I have no excuse and I know it. But whatever you decide to do with me now, I'll only have one final request." He sighs, hoping she'll hear the only thing he's still sure about in the whole galaxy. "Shepard, please, let me keep fighting alongside you." His voice are barely audible, laden with shame at his own selfishness, but it needs to be said now. He was not sure he'd ever have another chance.

Her sobs subside and her labored breathing turns into a growl as she struggles again.

"Get the fuck out," she hisses between clenched teeth.

He recoils as his heart clenches in pain, and lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding in a soft, flanged cry. It takes him a few more breaths to trust his voice to work again.

"Of course," he whispers.

He releases her neck and her wrist while standing up, the bruising making the process slow and painful. He knows his body will hurt for days but it's nothing. He feels like he just swallowed crushed glass, tearing up his insides and making his plates tingle with despair, and that will last a hell of a lot longer.

Shepard stays immobile, spread on the floor, resting her forehead on the cold, metallic flooring, her hand still behind her back. He steps away from her and heads to her desk. He hears rustling noises as he opens the door to her liquor stash and grabs the three bottles he finds there, including his horosk. He closes it and heads to the door when he hears her clipped words.

"What are you doing?"

He turns to her. She's standing right below the flight of stairs, back ramrod straight, clenched fists and steel in her eyes behind the soft red glow. He shivers.

"Your health a favor," he says weakly. He's not sure she'd be on meds, but the odds were pretty high and he's not willing to take the risk. Besides, she's already beyond furious and he doesn't have much left to lose anyway. Not wanting to wait for an answer, he immediately turns back to the door.

Words leave her mouth before she realizes it, bypassing any kind of filter, ignoring reason, anger and frustration taking over her body and mind.

"I fucking hate you," she growls, instantly regretting her outburst.

He freezes, hand hovering the door's panel. When he turns his head to speak to her, she's stunned by his distraught expression and his broken, wavering voice pierces her heart.

"I know."

The door opens and he disappears, leaving her alone with the vile shadow of guilt whispering in her ear, accusing and merciless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, that was hard to write. Urgh. Hum... I'm sorry? ^^'
> 
> To make it up to you: [Here's an extra cute fanart of the day!](http://potage-le-magnifique.deviantart.com/art/That-is-a-masterpiece-Garrus-331934908) :3 (still not mine)
> 
> Thank you [minionofmoo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/minionofmoo/pseuds/minionofmoo) for the help on grammar! :3
> 
> One more thing: The move Garrus uses on Shepard is a loose adaptation of an aikido move, [ikkyo ura](https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=TIgHGIo4wZI#t=43). Extremely effective if properly done.


	15. Sway

Shepard heaves a shaky sigh, trying not to pay too much attention to the drool, snot and tears mixing and dripping into the toilet bowl. So much for keeping the meds in. With one shaky hand she reaches the flush button, the other still holding her head. As she watches with mild interest the bowl's contents disappearing, she briefly wonders what would happen if her hand had let go of her head, an imagines herself being swallowed by the vortex and being minced to a bloody, bubbling paste by the waste treatment unit of the ship. Not exactly the most epic way to leave this world, but that would be oddly welcome at the moment. Wouldn't be much worse than being spaced anyway. And at least, it would definitely destroy any chance of being brought back from the dead again, so she wouldn't have to care.

She should move. She really should. But she doesn't want to. Her whole body is heavy, and the toilet bowl is oddly comforting, offering a support that she knows is not going anywhere. She coughs once more, her stomach convulsing painfully, but feeling safely empty. She winces and spits. It's over, she thinks. So many things feel over now.

She thinks back on Garrus's face when he left. And his words. She had never thought Turians could express so much pain with so little words. At least in ways that she, mere Human, could understand. That had been a bone crushing slap in the face that effectively woke her up from her anger-induced trance. Damn. Anger had been comforting. Anger shuts reality down, sings words of self-righteousness so loud you don't hear reason anymore, and it's relaxing in its own explosive way, shielding you from all the feelings that threaten to crush you if you dare turn around to look at all the things you leave behind.

And now she's slowly turning around, slowly taking in every shard of broken hearts. Some of them she recognizes, she had been busy keeping them from coming apart for so long. Some of them are blue, glaring at her accusingly, blaming her for never realizing she had the power to shatter them, for being so selfishly drunk on her own self-loathing that she hadn't even known she was carelessly handling precious, fragile things.

His betrayal still hurts more than what she thinks she can function with, and that's a thought she's not willing to finish at the moment. But who the fuck was she to judge him? Not only did she betray him, which she could have lived with, and she did, but for a moment she really felt the urge to kill him and acted on it, and to add insult to injury she lied to him again, telling him words that should never be said between friends. As much as she wanted him to pay for trampling over her trust, he never deserved that.

Between friends, huh? But were they?

Just thinking that this could change leaves her feeling hollow. Losing him meant losing the only stable thing she had left in her life. A chill runs down her spine and she shivers. As if to chase the feeling away, she laboriously stands up and turns around to grasp the edge of the sink, head low, taking in her bloody knuckles. Apparently, skin weave is still no match against Turian plating.

She shakes her head and grabs her toothbrush and toothpaste, eager to wash the disgusting taste lingering in her mouth. Brushing her teeth makes her feel a little better, as if she could cleanse her harsh words off her teeth. Hoping to keep the therapeutic effect running and extending, she rinses her mouth quickly and disrobes, then steps into the shower.

She lingers inside for too long but she doesn't care, they're on shore leave and she doesn't need to think about rationing right now. She lets the water cascade over her body, slowly reminding her limbs that they're alive and belong to her, that everything is not lost.

Or is it? What now?

The good thing about hitting the bottom of the sea is that you don't have to fear sinking any deeper. The strange, empty feeling of peace surprises her, and she suddenly feels disconnected from her own reality, as if she were watching a shitty holo she could barely relate to.

She presses her palms on the bulkhead, leaning forward, suddenly very tired. Exhaustion spreads within her, and loosens knots of tension she forgot about a long time ago. Tears well up again and take her by surprise. She starts sobbing again, not really knowing why she's crying anymore, just that it must be done.

After what feels an eternity, her breathing slows down. She steps out, mechanically dries herself and applies medi-gel on her hands, her head still blissfully blank. She leaves the bathroom naked, not caring about the mess she leaves behind and heads for her bed. She freezes on the stairs, looking at the spot in front of her. Memories of him, growling and grabbing her like he was going to devour her, brutally kissing her, suddenly makes her throat constrict painfully. His words replay in her head like a broken vid.

At that moment, she had focused solely on all the things she'd done to him and her shame at knowing he remembered all of it. Thus, she had missed something crucial. He wanted her. For real. Not because of some induction of her part. And he still wants her after one of the biggest, most shameful personal fuck-ups of her entire life.

That thought momentarily throws her off balance and she has to sit on the lowest step. She rests her elbows on her knees, arms dangling between her legs, eyes wide as she tries to process the information.

She couldn't, for the life of her, wrap her head around the fact that this could be real. Him wanting her at all was already hard to imagine, but after what had transpired? And what about the fact that he had only started to seriously flirt with her after they started that hypnosis bull? That doesn't make any sense. She's starting to wonder if he's as sane as she thought he was.

Probably not after all. He already followed her through Hell and back twice without so much as batting an eye and was in the process of doing it again, that alone should have rung some warning bells. She had always assumed it was his sense of justice and duty that pushed him to follow her, but in hindsight, it could not possibly explain everything.

Perfect Garrus was not so perfect after all. They just might be more similar than she had imagined.

Thinking that she may have misunderstood him so badly makes her head spin, and she couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh or cry. All this time she hadn't known who Garrus Vakarian really was. What a shitty best friend she had been. Could she have been any more conceited? Was she so used to her own self-destructive behaviors that she couldn't even pay attention to his? Had she really cared so little?

Could she really hate herself any further?

Angry at him, herself, everything, she ruffles her hair and stands up abruptly, huffing harshly. She needs the drink she never got to finish at the Purgatory, and that son of a bitch left with her booze. Damn him for still caring in the most infuriating ways. Ignoring the need to punch him that slowly comes back growling, sending tingles in her fingertips, she stomps towards her closet and grabs underwear, a clean tank top and a pair of workout pants.

She dresses quickly and leaves her quarters barefoot, back tense and a resolute frown on her face.

She enters the port observation deck with a sigh, glad that the vast majority of the crew was out. She'd like to avoid having to explain why her eyes are red and she looks like she just took on an army of Krogans with her bare hands. But as she makes a beeline for the bar, she jumps at the unexpected sight on her right. There, on the leather couch, was an unconscious Garrus his face down and an arm dangling over the edge.

Her eyes widen as she takes in the rest of the room, a twinge of panic rising in her. The lamp that was previously on the table he apparently was sat in front of before passing out lays broken on the floor farther away towards the bar, her bottles were standing on the counter, forgotten but intact, and his horosk was empty, the bottle laying on its side on the coffee table next to his visor. Just how much of the stuff did he drink?

She crouches in front of his head and shakes his shoulder, roughly.

"Garrus... Garrus, wake up!" No response. She shakes him harder. "Garrus! Don't you fucking dare fall into an ethylic coma on me! Wake up!"

He groans sleepily and she huffs. Thank fuck. He slowly opens his visible eye and vaguely focuses on her.

"Hi...oh, hey... ylooklikesmwaano..." he drawls against the cushion, his voice lower and raspier than usual.

She blinks.

"What?"

He turns his head a little.

"You look like someone I know..." He closes his eyes again.

Ok, he's smashed indeed. She sighs and rubs her forehead.

"But she hates me now." He turns back to the cushion, keening softly.

She grits her teeth at the stab of pain in her chest, and stands up. He's awake and talking, so he can wait. She heads for the bar, stepping over the dead lamp and pours herself a glass of Elasa. Now that she's here, she might as well enjoy the larger choice. She takes a large swig and leans on the counter.

Now what?

She never thought she would ever see him in this state. Strong, brave, dependable Garrus drinking himself stupid was certainly unexpected. He always was a reasonable drinker. Standing guard in the only room where she could find booze in the ship was a smart move, she'll give him that. Passing out on guard duty? Not so much. If the reason why he did it in the first place wasn't so painful, she would never let him live it down. But as it is, she doesn't really know how to react to that, or what to do with him.

She gets up, glass in hand, and walks to him, picking up the lamp on the way, and placing it back on the table. She'll ask him to fix it later. She sits on the larger side of the couch, beside his head, and sips on her drink, watching him. How he manages to remain impressive even passed out on a couch is a mystery. The scars maybe? She extends her hand and brushes a finger along his exposed mandible. It twitches reflexively. Just like that time, right before Lesuss.

The day she ordered him to kiss her.

And he didn't hesitate.

The affectionate nuzzling, the awkward plates to mouth first contact, were all done consciously. Willingly.

She feels like a complete idiot for stealing something that could have been given to her willingly, but does she really want it, deep down? She always avoided the issue because she was afraid of rejection, but that was a major case of not seeing the wood for the trees. Sure, by the time she realized she couldn't ignore her growing attraction to him anymore, she was sure she had no hope, and it was enough a reason to push them away. But now that she knew she was mistaken, she had no choice but to face the real issue.

She sucks at relationships. What little experience she had in this department is an impressive collection of train wrecks. Communication failures and misunderstandings all over the place, mostly, and what just happened wasn't exactly pointing towards any kind of improvement in this regard. She lost a few friends in the process, and she doesn't want to lose Garrus that way.

However, she could clearly see a different pattern here. For one, she has no idea what exactly dating a Turian entails, and she's pretty sure he's just as deep in the dark as she is. Then, there's the whole Human relationship social codes bullshit she never really could accept. Her previous lovers had high expectations for her in a field in which she really didn't fit. She never was girly, or sweet, or romantic, or whatever the fuck they expected her to be with them, and it would invariably drive them nuts at some point, frustrated in their conservative ideals on what a couple should be. And that would drive her nuts in return. Garrus would never insult her by asking her to be someone she's not. If he hasn't after all that, she's most certainly safe.

Which leads her to the biggest difference of them all. Shit already hit the fan.

That was the other good thing about reaching the bottom of the sea. You have something under your feet to push on, to propel you back towards the surface. After what happened, they couldn't possibly return to whatever they were before, but unlike her past relationships, they still had room for evolving, because even if some doors had just been closed and sealed shut, others just unexpectedly unlocked. They just had to decide which threshold they wanted to cross, and do it very carefully. And together, preferably. Imagining Garrus disappearing through a door, his back being the last thing she'd ever see of him makes her heart clench in pain and loss.

No. As much as she's pissed at him, the mere thought of losing him is unbearable.

Damn him.

She sips on her drink again, and pokes the top of his head with her finger.

"Hey, you there?" Poke, poke.

He grunts petulantly and his dangling arm comes up to blindly swat her hand away. She can't suppress the ghost of a smirk that makes its way to her lips.

"I'm not leaving you here so you'd better do something before I punch you awake... which could happen very soon, I'm already tempted enough as it is," she deadpans.

An eye opens wide at her words.

"Sh'pard?"

"No, I'm fucking Harbinger and I'll assume direct control if you don't get your bony ass moving." She rolls her eyes and drinks.

He shifts awkwardly to a half-seated position, leaning heavily on an elbow and swaying dangerously.

"You're drinking." He frowns.

"Oh, really? I didn't notice." She sips again on her glass, just to antagonize him.

He laboriously sits up, sliding closer to her and leans back, draping his arms over the back of the couch.

"You shouldn't," he breathes out, sounding suddenly exhausted by the effort. Damn, that voice.

She looks at him incredulously, raising an eyebrow at him.

"That's rich, coming from a shitfaced Turian."

He looks to the side, frowning, his head wobbling a little.

"M'not shitfaced."

"Yeah, right. And I'm an Asari stripper." She huffs impatiently. "Besides, I puked the meds out, so no awkward mixing for me tonight. Happy?" She turns to glare at him.

He turns to her and looks down as soon as he meets her eyes.

"Oh..." He pauses. "You still shouldn't if you're sick."

She groans.

"What the hell, Garrus? Are you really going to lecture me all night long?" She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "Way to add oil to the fire." Be patient, Jane. Be patient. Your knuckles don't need any further abuse tonight.

He looks away again, his mandibles tight against his face, and clenches his eyes shut.

"You hate me already anyway," he mumbles under a pained keen.

"Oh for fuck's sake..." She drops her head on her palm and sighs, before setting her empty glass on the table and looking up again and straight at him. "I didn't mean that, okay? It was the anger talking."

His head snaps towards her and his arms tense against the back of the couch, pushing his body forward to a dangerous angle given his inebriated state.

"Really?" he breathes out, barely loud enough for her translator to catch.

"Yes, really," she grunts.

She huffs and closes her eyes. It was like talking to a child. Off all the things she had expected a wasted Garrus to be, childish had been pretty low on the list. She's never been good with kids. She just doesn't have the patience. She vaguely pays attention so the shuffling noises beside her and regrets her carelessness immediately as he suddenly glomps her without warning. She yelps and jumps in his tight embrace, surprised by how warm he feels without the usual thick layer of armor.

"Thank the Spirits," he mumbles against the back of her neck.

As soon as his breath makes her baby hairs stand on end, she grabs the cowl of his tunic and flips him over with a jerk of her shoulder. He falls heavily on the floor with a loud grunt, missing the coffee table by a hairbreadth.

"Don't push your luck, I'm still mad at you," she mumbles, a little sorry for him. He should have known how her body usually reacts to surprise attacks, but the last thing she wants is a repeat of earlier. Besides, he can hardly defend himself right now.

He blinks and she releases his cowl, ready to get up and help him up. But suddenly, out of the blue, his laugh fills the room, rich, raspy, and very toothy. She can't help but stare as he rolls on the side, curling himself around her feet, clutching his stomach as fits of laughter shake his whole body, his blue tongue and mandibles convulsing in rhythm. She had never seen him laugh like that. Hell, she had never seen a Turian crack up at all, let alone literally roll on the floor laughing. It's fascinating, to witness a face seemingly carved in stone suddenly this mobile, expressive, alive. She doesn't even try to suppress the chuckle that escapes her own lips. The sight is too contagious, slowly melting her anger away.

As his mirth subsides, he slowly sits up and leans back on one hand, his balance precarious but apparently still manageable. He folds his legs, one on the floor, slightly angled by his spur, and resting his free arm on the opposite knee, and heaves a loud, contented sigh. Is the bastard posing? At this point, it wouldn't even surprise her anymore.

"Damn... that hurt." He looks back up to her with hooded eyes. "You nailed me good back there." He smirks.

Her smile dissolves and she shivers. Whatever he's doing, consciously or not, is working. Between his voice, his relaxed, seductive stance, his choice of words and the look he's giving her, she doesn't stand a damn chance. She's already melting on the inside, inescapable waves of warmth making their way all the way down her spine. Her legs twitch involuntarily. She frowns.

"And I still have plenty where that came from. Don't think I've forgiven you just because I can't bring myself to hate you."

"Fair enough. Wouldn't dare ask for more. Nice move just now, by the way." He nods his head towards his previous spot on the couch.

"Well, you attacked me without warning..." She ruffles her hair in mild embarrassment.

He chuckles again, the sound raising goosebumps on her forearms..

"I had it coming... and wouldn't expect any less from you." He shifts slightly. "And I still have all my limbs attached, which is a good sign. Y'know, I really think we can work with that... especially if you..." He lifts his arm from his knees and brush his knuckles along the inside of her calf, while leaning his head towards the space between her knees and sniffing the air, eyes closed. "Smell this good..." he breathes out over a long exhale.

She jerks her leg out of his grasp and he straightens with a sly grin.

"What?" she asks, panic raising inside her as an unwelcome guess starts forming in her mind.

"Turians can smell Human arousal, Shepard." His grin widens.

She blanches.

"Oh shit," she murmurs, eyes wide.

He laughs again as she abruptly stands up and starts pacing in the room, running her fingers through her hair. That was even worse than she thought. So every time he had turned her on, she had had no way to hide it, not even during... She stops and slowly turns to him, as he's slowly lifting his uncooperative body from the floor to sit back on the couch.

"Wait... so even that time when I sat on your lap..."

"Aaaah, that time..." he starts, slouching back, his arms draped on the back of the couch and his legs crossed. "Damn, Shepard, you had me out of my plates in a second with that smell and those legs of yours. I was as hard as a mass effect physics thesis." He tilts his head to the side, amused by her reaction.

"Oh my God." She rubs her face, painfully aware of the powerful reaction of her body to his words. The melting was getting literal.

"And I'm getting there again, actually." He snorts, squirming a little.

"And I'm gonna hit you if you don't shut up," she retorts, glaring at him.

A mischievous glint crosses his bleary eyes, and she knows he has no intention of complying.

"Why?" He tilts his head again. "Oh, I remember hearing something veeeery interesting back in my C-Sec days. Apparently, Human females dig Turian voices. Is that true?" he asks innocently.

She turns around and groans in response.

"Does my voice turn you on, Shepard?" he asks in a low, gravelly tone she can practically feel under her skin.

Oh, the way he said her name...

"Ok. I'm done." She turns back to him abruptly, pointing at him menacingly. "You, stand up, right fucking now. I'm taking you back to the main battery." She walk to him in long strides and grabs his arm, pulling harshly.

He chuckles, thankfully putting a little effort in getting back to his feet.

"So it does... hmm... good to know," he says, finally standing, as he grabs her shoulder for balance.

"Seriously, shut up."

She takes his arm and drapes it around her shoulders to help him walk, and leads him away from the couch. The process is slow, stabilizing a swaying Turian takes a lot of strength and focus, as the difference in size and body mass are not in her favor. It would also help if he wasn't as cooperative as a triple knot.

"Damn... you smell good." He takes a deep inhale. "Mmmmh."

"Shut up and walk." She grits her teeth, trying to ignore how his moan makes his whole body vibrate.

"Wait, wait!" He forces her to stop.

"What, now?" she half growls.

His free hand slips under the bottom of his tunic, grabbing the front of his pants and pulling the fabric off his body. His hips jerk forward a little and he lets out a long, blissful sigh. Oh dear. Her knees feel like they're going to shake and buckle any second now.

"You've got to be kidding me..." she whispers, closing her eyes.

"Shepard..." he says, turning towards her, still holding the fabric of his pants.

"What?" she asks curtly.

"You're not seriously planning on dumping me in the main battery, are you?" he asks, a hint of worry showing beneath the surface of his drunken boldness.

She huffs, trying to regain control over her body, heart and thoughts. Someone has to be responsible here. Although if she was completely honest with herself, she's somewhat trying to make up for her earlier behavior. It still leaves a bitter taste in her mouth and an ache in the stomach. Besides, they still have a lot to talk about and get straight to clear the air between them and decide where to go from there.

"We're not making any decision while you're smashed. And that includes sex, if that's what you're referring to. So yes." She clenches her eyes shut, trying to repress the urge to leave him then and there.

"Humans..." He snorts and shakes his head. "At least let me use your shower? Can't sleep like that and I'd rather not risk having anyone interrupting... and your bathroom smells like you." He smirks.

"Oh for the love of..."

"Please..." he coos in her ear.

She growls, pushing his face back with the palm of her hand as a warm shiver makes her skin tingle and her blood pool and boil between her legs. That sly bastard always was a fast learner.

"Too close," she deadpans.

He chuckles and sways dangerously, and she has to turn them a bit to regain her balance.

"Give me one good reason not to just leave you here," she sighs.

"Crew members walking in on me while I moan your name in ecstasy?" He tilts his head and smirks when she groans in frustration.

"Y'know what? I changed my mind. I may be starting to hate you after all. Fucking fine, but make it quick. Now start walking." She pulls him towards the exit.

"Yes, Commander," he singsongs.

They finally wobble their way out of the room, but apparently Garrus has decided to make her life his own personal brand of a living hell, and apparently lost any ability to keep his mouth shut.

Waiting for the elevator.

"Y'know, you're incredibly sexy when you're angry."

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Very much so. Strength is a major turn-on for Turians, you know?"

"I didn't know Turians had a masochistic streak."

"Not masochistic. Just appreciating a good challenge."

"Is that what I am to you?"

"Among many other things. Should I list them?"

"No."

In the elevator.

"Why the fuck don't Turians slur when they're smashed?"

"Why do Humans slur? That's just weird."

"You lose proper control over your limbs, why not your tongue?"

"Good point. To sweep Human war heroes off their feet under all circumstances?"

"Forget I asked."

While trying to unlock the captain's cabin.

"Have I ever told you how sexy your waist is? I could barely keep my hands off it when you were- oof!"

"That fucking tickles!"

Leading him to the bathroom.

"You sure you don't want to join me? How do you Human say? The more, the merrier?"

"Just shut up and take that damn shower."

With Garrus finally shut away in the bathroom, Shepard sits at the foot of the bed and exhales deeply, resting her elbows on her knees. The tingling sensation between her legs has yet to fade, but fatigue is slowly winning the battle. She drops her head, as if it was filed with lead. She's drained, and feels like she could fall asleep standing.

What a night. Discovering that her best friend, the only person she felt she could fully rely on lied to her, betrayed her trust was bad enough already, but knowing that he saw her at her lowest lows, saw the most shameful, ugly sides of her was even worse. Slowly, bit by bit, memories of those times were coming back to her with a new, unsettling perspective. What must have gone through his mind when she broke down, pouring all her insecurities and doubts on him? Empathy? Disappointment? Protectiveness? Pity? All of the above? She completely shattered any chance to remain that unyielding, strong, reliable soldier that once was her reflection in his eyes. How can he still trust her not to collapse when the whole galaxy is coming apart?

People see her as their last hope. She's fine with that, even if she knows better. She understands, they need hope. They need to believe. They need heroes. But if she can't be credible in this role anymore, what purpose does she serve?

And what about the moment when she first set the trigger? Surely he must have felt incredibly disappointed, betrayed. After all, that's exactly what she did, betray him. She had been aware of that fact since the very beginning, and she had learned to navigate around it, because he didn't know, because she would repay him eventually, because she needed that at that moment.

But he knew all along. And now it's time to face the music.

However, some things just don't add up. Sure, he's pretty trashed, horosk is known to be a liquid sledgehammer. But even in this state, he seems way too relaxed about this. Garrus, ferocious defender of justice, chaotic good postmodern hero who would give his life to right the wrongs, whatever the cost, not even batting an eyelid at being betrayed by someone close to him all over again? Sure, this time didn't lead to the death of a trusted squad, but that doesn't mean that his strong views on betrayal disappeared overnight.

They really need to talk.

And she really needs to ignore that flanged, half-moaning, half-growling sound coming from her bathroom.

A few minutes later, the sound of the bathroom door sliding open wakes her up from where she had finally collapsed on the bed, blissfully dozing off. She yawns and gets up, and walks up the stairs, to find a now familiar sight. Of course Garrus is naked save a towel around his hips. Of course he did that on purpose, and the way he leans nonchalantly against the door frame only serves as a confirmation.

Oddly enough, she's too tired to care. And she's thankful for that. At least, he looks dry this time and he had the presence of mind to pick up his clothes.

She doesn't give him the time to talk though. She grabs his arm and helps him down the stairs. The process is even slower than before, and he's unexpectedly silent. She focuses on her task, absently appreciating the velvety, warm feeling of his hide under her hands. Who knew Turians were so soft? Surely, she'll find an opportunity to tease him about it. She leads him to the right side of the bed where he sits gracelessly.

"Get dressed while I brush my teeth. Spread the towel on the bedside table to dry, I'll take care of it tomorrow. I'll be back in a minute."

She walks back to the bathroom, a little thrown off by his silence. It's such a sharp contrast with the infuriating chatterbox she had led to her quarters earlier that she can't help to wonder if he's just tired and high on horosk and post orgasmic haze, or if she should be worried.

When she come back, she can't help a small smile from pulling at her lips. Her towel was neatly spread on the table, he had managed to pull his pants on, but it looks like he honestly intended to put his tunic back on, an arm half-way through a sleeve, and collapsed on his side before he could finish his task. Well, at least his head landed on a pillow.

She grabs a couple of spare blankets from a closet and sets them on the bed. Then, grabs his feet and pulls his legs on the bed, rolling her eyes at the small twitch of his large, alien toes and the soft grunt of protest. Damn, he's heavy. She spreads one blanket over him, grabs the other along with the unoccupied pillow and settles herself on the couch, wrapping the blanket around herself like a burrito to prevent it from falling during the night.

Her mind is unexpectedly blank when she closes her eyes, and for the first time in weeks, sleep takes her by surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That took forever to write, I never intended to make you wait so long after the train wreck that was chap14. [Troll!Garrus](http://chasing-the-redline.deviantart.com/art/PROBLEM-SHEPARD-155384129) was fun but hard to write, I hope I didn't go too OOC. (art not mine)
> 
> Anyway, I have a couple of announcements to make:
> 
> I got another gift fic!!! *jumps around excitedly, fanning herself* The amazing [Chromaticism](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromaticism) has started a shakarian series and blames some people for it, including me apparently, hahaha! I'm not sorry. This is too good. If you like feels and humor wrapped in hot, rough sex, [this series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/363755) is for you!!!
> 
> Now, as much as I'd love to just never stop writing, I highly doubt I can squeeze another chapter in before the holidays. I'm going to be really busy and will be away at the end of the month, so I think it's safe not to count on it. In any case, I'll be back in January. I will most likely still be able to answer message though, so don't hesitate. Also, my email address is in my profile if you want to say hi. :3
> 
> [source](http://garrus-vakarian.tumblr.com/page/4)
> 
> Thank you so much for your continued support!!! You're awesome.
> 
>  
> 
> [ Fanart of the day! (still not mine)](http://yosh9.deviantart.com/art/Thresher-Hugs-292652493)


	16. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!!!! Hum... yeah, I know, it's a bit late for that but hey, we're still in January! ^^'
> 
> I have to warn that I made a bunch of minor changes and corrections in the previous chapters before writing this one. Nothing major, really, but it's important to let you know so... yeah.

The first thing that registers in Garrus's brain when he wakes up is the pain. He's sore all over and his limbs feel like they're going to break if he tries moving. But when he remembers the reasons behind it, his eyes snap open and his body tenses painfully. He immediately regrets it and grunts softly.

He blinks and takes in the towel on the bedside table, the small armchair and the fallen chess pieces surrounding a broken datapad on the floor. What a mess. He doesn't really want to see the rest of the room right now.

Wait.

Where is Shepard?

He sighs and wiggles a little to loosen his sore muscles, and realizes one of his arm refuses to cooperate. He slowly pushes the blanket away – where did that even come from? - and sees his arm trapped in his tunic he apparently collapsed over. And he thought the room was a mess. No wonder he can't remember anything after putting his pants on.

He tilts his head downwards as far as his neck allows at the moment and spots her sleeping form on the couch, behind the toppled over desk chair. She's wrapped in a similar blanket he can see moving in rhythm with her breathing. His brow plates rise in surprise. Did she really sleep on the couch and left him on her bed after... everything that happened yesterday? He was sure she would have kicked him out, probably literally so. This feels… wrong.

He relaxes back on the bed, waiting for his body to warm up before attempting any further moving around.

Then again, she was surprisingly patient with him when she brought him back to her cabin, given what happened right before and his inebriated state. What could have caused that unexpected turnaround? Not that he's going to complain but with everything he said… and did... oh Spirits. Just thinking about it makes him cringe in mortification. He knew there was a good chance she would show up in the lounge and he still drunk enough to be sure to make a fool of himself in the worst way possible. He's made an awful lot of bad decisions in his life, but their frequency really hit the ceiling lately. Isn't that one of the things that are supposed to fade with age? Where the hell is his promised wisdom hiding?

He sighs and tentatively stretches his legs. It still hurts but it's manageable. He really needs to move at some point anyway, if he wants the pain to go away. He laboriously scoots backwards to free his tunic, and slowly sits on the mattress. He lifts his previously trapped arm, lifting the tunic, and frowns at the dangling piece of clothing. He pulls it off and tosses it out of the bed, and starts stretching silently.

It's a slow process, and he hates every second of it, but he needs to keep it methodical and thorough If he wants to be able to move around freely today, he must not leave a muscle unstretched. When was the last time that happened? So long ago he can barely remember it. However, he still remembers the first time. It was the seniors' way of hazing the newcomers in basic. Encourage them to get plastered during their first break and watch the disaster when morning comes. For most of them, it had been their first time heavily drinking too, and they discovered firsthand that the threats from their folks were not baseless bullshit they made up just to keep them in the right path. He snorts, remembering the entire platoon walking like robots and wincing for a whole day. Yep, Turian hangovers are a bitch.

After half an hour of stretching and light exercises, he looks at the holo clock on the table. 0643. Still early, good. No one should be up yet. Hopefully. He's not in the best place for small talk right now.

He gets up and bounces up and down quietly to get his blood pumping, further waking up his numb body. He picks up his tunic and struggles to put it back on, grunting when the last arm finally managed to get in. Then, his eyes fall on the messy bundle of covers on the couch again.

She's lying on her back, her head towards the aquarium, probably to shield her eyes from its light, an arm dangling out, barely touching the ground and the other arm folded above her head to use her hand as an extra pillow. He walks silently towards her and watches her sleeping face.

Her features are relaxed, rested and he can hear a soft, rhythmic purring sound coming from her. Nothing remains of the fierce, violent, vengeful cyclone that unleashed its wrath and thirst for destruction on him last night. It's hard to wrap his head around the fact that yes, that was the same person. She looks so peaceful right now, so delicate and vulnerable. Boy, can looks be deceiving.

He crouches beside her, mindful not to touch her, and studies her face for a moment. He never had a chance to watch her sleep like that. The last and only time he had seen her sleep, he had been so overwhelmed by guilt and regret that he never dared indulge in observing her. Now it feels like he's witnessing something really special, a once in a lifetime kind of occurrence, like seeing a Caladrius fly over a battlefield, healing the wounded. His hands itch with the need to touch her, yet he doesn't dare act on it, in fear of waking her up, but also feeling like he would break a spell if he did.

Instead, he observes silently, taking in every little detail. The smooth, soft skin, dotted with small variations in color and small scars, her hair, draped over her arm and the couch, messy but still looking silky – what would it feel like if he touched it without his gloves? - the fine hairs above her eyes and on the edge of her eyelids, barely touching her cheeks, the unbelievably soft lines of her jaw, her strange, prominent nose that contrasts with the smoothness surrounding it, and the half open, plump lips... He can still feel how they felt on his mouth, so mobile, so pliant yet demanding, exploring, tasting, playing with his plates like they were meant to be there. And weird as it may be, he wants to feel that again. Not like yesterday, when the contact had been desperate, harsh and bordering on uncaring. He's relieved to see he hasn't damaged anything in the process, those delicate lips are so close to her teeth.

How had he gone from never having considered a partner outside of his own species to being attracted to a Human in such a short period of time? And yet, here he is, unable to deny how beautifully exotic she is in his eyes, unable to quench the sizzling curiosity that makes his fingertips tingle with a barely resistible thirst for contact.

He almost wants to call her name to wake her up so he could look at her eyes up close and give them the same attention. But she needs that sleep, and he's not exactly ready to face her yet.

No, not yet. Absolutely not.

Especially since there was still the possibility that she would ask him to never set foot on her ship again. After all, her "answer" to his final request to keep him in the crew pointed towards that direction.

He knew he shouldn't worry to much about what she said at that time, after all she said herself that she didn't hate him, that it was the anger talking. But she never said it extended to her answer, or lack thereof, and not hating him was still compatible with permanent dismissal.

It wouldn't be surprising either, considering the train wreck that has been his life so far. His C-Sec days, his relationship with his family, the Omega debacle, his poor attempts at picking up the torch while she was locked away... everything he did went sideways at some point. The only thing that hadn't so far was fighting by her side, but even that he just managed to put in jeopardy. Can't something go right for once?

He drops his head and sighs, feeling defeated and empty inside. What will he do if it comes to that? Surely the Hierarchy will waste no time in putting him in command again. Adviser his ass. If he even failed Shepard, how can he spend the day making decisions that would involve thousands, possibly millions of lives at once and then sleep on the certainty that he made the right call? As much as he knows sacrifices must be made, he's not a cold-hearted dictator that wouldn't give a damn about the consequences, and this time he won't have Shepard working her magic with the very words he needs to hear every time his doubts eat away at him.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he stands up, slowly unfolding his sore body and steeling himself. He needs to focus on the now, and deal with all that when the time comes. Right now, he needs to make sure he's ready for whatever will come out of this when she wakes up.

He leaves the room with a heavy heart and heads to the crew deck, where he sneakily retrieves his second set of civvies and his toiletries. Then he heads to the men's bathroom and takes a long, hot shower to finish relaxing and soothing his aching muscles, and stretches again for a while under the spray. When he deems his body mobile enough, he dries himself, gets dressed and heads back to the main battery, tosses his stuff aside and opens the console to check on the new reports. Apparently, the massive evacuations on Palaven that have been following the full retreat order have met a partial success so far despite their lack of subtlety. Using the fleet's very retreat as a smoke screen has worked to some extent and minimizes the losses but they're still overwhelming and the evacs are nowhere near complete. They've reached that point where it's hardly possible to tell if the news are good or bad anymore.

No words from his family. He knew he wouldn't get any more so soon, but the emptiness hurts nonetheless. Of course, the personal communication are low priority to begin with, and with how much damage the comm centers and buoys have suffered, the bandwidth took a bad hit, and he should be grateful for having heard his father's voice at all. He even suspects some strings were cleverly pulled to achieve that. But as long as they're out of sight with who knows how many Reapers around, the fear will not abate.

Shaking his head, he closes the terminal and heads back towards the elevator.

When he enters Shepard's cabin again, he immediately starts picking up everything that litters the ground. Datapads, chess board and pieces, shards of glass from who knows what, chairs, his visor... their fight had been brutal to make such a mess of an otherwise extremely orderly room. He still can feel a couple of bruises here and there and his left mandible still feels a bit tender at the joint so it comes as no surprise, but he had been too focused on her to really pay attention to the damage around.

With the room finally looking more like a room again, and much less like a battlefield, he approaches her again. Seeing her sleeping on the couch doesn't sit right with him. She shouldn't have been this lenient. It was her bed and she should have reclaimed it. Not only because she was the Commander, but also because he didn't exactly deserve such laxity. Especially after... yesterday. The past month. Everything.

He knows he risks waking her up but his need to right the wrongs wins once more. Slowly, carefully, he slips an arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees and gently picks her up. The feeling of déjà vu makes his mandible flutter in nostalgic amusement.

But when she shifts in the blankets, some of the air trapped underneath comes out... Ah, is she supposed to... still? Are Humans... Well shit. As much as he's come to appreciate that scent, now is not a convenient time to be exposed to it. He hurries towards the bed and slowly lowers her on the spot he had occupied during the night and still has a pillow.

"Hmm... Yeah, right there," she mumbles around a soft moan.

Oh. So that's what it is.

His mandibles spread in surprise as he disentangles himself from the blanket as slowly as he can. Would he dare hope he inspired that? After all, she, or rather her body, has already expressed a certain amount of… interest. He welcomes the shy, uncertain burst of pride at the possibility, slightly calming his nerves, feeling the small release of adrenaline seep into his veins and bring back the energy he had lacked since he woke up, granting him the needed reactivity to block the sudden punch aimed at his face with the palm of his hand. Perfect timing.

He turns his head towards her, her fist still in his hand, and meets her confused, blinking eyes.

"Ow..." He winces. "That hurt."

She blinks again and rapidly takes in her surroundings, silently assessing the situation, identifying threats and deducing her current position. Oh, ok. She frowns at him.

"Seriously, Garrus, how many times do you need to take me by surprise until you get that it's a bad idea?" They both drop their hands and she sits up, scratching her head.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Especially since you seemed to be having, huh… fun," he says, scratching his scarred mandible, looking away. He just can't keep his big mouth shut, can he?

She pauses for a second while faded remnants of her interrupted dream come back to the front of her mind, and her eyes widen for a second.

"How about I try again? Now that I'm awake, I'm not gonna miss." She scowls at him, exaggerating a little to cover the fact that she actually finds the situation a little humorous despite her morning grumpiness.

"I... think I'll shut up for now." He stands up and starts to walk away.

"Well thank goodness." She sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "I need coffee before I can handle... this," she sighs, getting up and following him.

At that, he pauses, turns towards her and lets her walk past him in silence, and follows her to the elevator. Thankfully, the thing hadn't moved since his last ride. Once inside, she turns to him with a raised eyebrow.

"By the way, what the hell? That was a sloppy punch, that shouldn't have hurt."

"Well… a lot of things are bound to hurt today." He tilts his head slightly from side to side to emphasize his point, stretching his neck.

"What do you mean?" She couldn't have hurt him that much yesterday, right?

"I have a bad hangover."

"No shit. So? I heard those are extra hard for Turians, but… that bad?" She raises the other eyebrow.

"Uh, well, it's not commonly covered in textbooks but yeah, there's a pretty good reason you rarely see Turians get plastered. We get a bad case of muscle fever. Really bad. And, huh..." He looks away. "We also always remember everything, unlike your kind. We don't get much of a headache though."

He remembers his days, or rather mornings in C-Sec when Humans would wake up in custody whining about their heads and demanding what the hell they were doing there… and a Human colleague of his who would always pull their leg by telling them the most ridiculous stories for a while before revealing the truth. He would come up with a different story every time. Damn, this guy had a wild imagination and a wicked sense of humor. He makes a mental note to check if he survived the coup d'état some time later.

"Well, serves you right." Se snorts. "No, seriously, I just can't hide anything from you, can I?"

"You're kidding me? I..." He shakes his head. "Never mind."

He's saved by the doors opening and gets out of the elevator first. Now might not be the best time to remind her that she managed to hide that she had apparently harbored an interest towards him that went a little beyond friendship for about an entire year.

"What?" she asks when he doesn't elaborate.

"Hmm, let's just say it's not true. Coffee?" he asks over his shoulder.

"Hell yeah. One sugar."

They reach the kitchen area and she sits on the counter while he busies himself with the coffee machine. He had taken a liking on the stuff in C-Sec after trying it out of curiosity to see what the hype was all about. It really tasted like nothing he knew, but it was pleasant and never failed to warm him up. Caffeine did nothing for him but he didn't care. He had also appreciated its social role, its way of providing excuses to get to know his colleagues in a less awkward, friendlier setting. He had actually learned a lot about Humans thanks to that. A mandible twitches at the memories brought by the rich aroma emanating from the machine.

"I still don't get why you'd put sugar in it. That's nasty," he remarks as his eyes follow the liquid pouring in their cups.

"Helps me forget the coffee's bad." She shrugs.

"By making it worse?" he asks, casting a glance towards her.

"It actually makes it better. Different taste buds, remember?"

He hums in agreement and puts a sugar and a stirring stick in her cup and hands it to her.

"Thanks," she says, taking her cup and immediately starting to play with the melting sugar with the stick.

They drink in silence for a few minutes, both painfully aware of the chilling awkwardness between them. How had they gotten to this point when they were so close before? When they had such a good chemistry, both natural and forged by the years and the fights? Yet, the heavy silence is only broken by the occasional stir and gulping noise, and their eyes don't meet.

Not that Shepard isn't trying, her gaze studying the silent Turian who, in turn, seems to be finding the med-bay fascinating. What is going through his brain right now? Where has gone the cocky, confident Turian that had come out to play recently? This Garrus really feels like a downgrade and it's unsettling. He had evolved so much since the stiff, socially clumsy and still somewhat immature C-Sec investigator she had recruited on the Citadel, it was sometimes hard to realize it was the same person. But seeing him go back to some of his old shy, awkward ways really throws her off-balance as she feels some of the closeness she had taken for granted slip through her fingers. It leaves a dull ache in her heart and a bitter taste in her mouth. Or is it the coffee?

"What's so interesting about the med-bay?" she finally asks, eyebrows raised.

"I, huh, was wondering if there are any Turian-friendly muscle relaxant in there," he answers, rubbing the edge of the cup with his thumb and briefly glancing at her. "Painkillers would be nice too but I already know where there are."

"Why don't we check out?" she suggests, getting off the stool and tossing her cup in the sink.

He downs the rest of his coffee and puts down his own cup before following her in the med-bay. He goes straight to the right and stiffly opens one of the bottom drawers to grab the painkillers while she searches the terminal behind him. He grabs a shot and closes the drawer, and opens the wrapping on the lab bench. He takes the shot, arms it and releases it on his neck, feeling the familiar sting of the needle and the slow wave of relief slowly seep through his sore neck. Much better. A few minutes more and he'll be good.

"Found it," she singsongs, still bent over the terminal. "Ok, le's see… Trithiosilax intravenous, adult male Turian… 120mg it is. Shit." She turns to him. "Ever done an intravenous injection? I have, but never on a Turian, and it was ages ago."

"No, never. Where did you learn to do that?" he asks, stepping aside from the bench and leaning on the incubator while she heads towards the sink to wash her hands.

"Alliance military. I had the opportunity to get a short training to be a combat team medic assistant. Jumped on it."

"Well, I'll be counting on you then." He shrugs. "Not like I can do it on my own anyway."

"Alright," she says, drying her hands. "Let's do this."

She crouches and opens the drawers to look for the dose, picking items up and scanning them with her omni-tool with a frown on her face.

But he knows they're stalling, and it's starting to get old. Besides, there's still that nagging uncertainty at the back of his head. As much as their current interaction doesn't exactly hint at him being fired in a close future, he needs it confirmed. But he also knows that he has a thing or two to take care of before that.

Look, I..." He drops his head and raises it again, trying to find words and courage. "I'm sorry for yesterday, I was drunk off my mind and... really out of line would be an understatement. And for deceiving y-"

"Stop right there," she interrupts with a raised palm, pulling her head out of the cupboard. This whole situation is already awkward enough, but exchanging apologies is something she's not comfortable with on a good day so now... and it won't solve anything anyway. "I think we can already agree that we both suck at..." She waves her hand around. "This, and that we fucked up big time, yadda, yadda. Can we now please give ourselves a chance to get over it and move on?"

That makes him pause. Granted, she's unapologetic on a good day but is he the only one taking this seriously here?

"Fine." He frowns, irritated by her nonchalance. "But I'm not sorry for pursuing you." There. At least he made that much clear. "Now what?" He huffs.

She's a little taken aback by his reaction. He's always been impulsive and a little short tempered on the field, but he usually is pretty patient with people, mainly using sarcasm when he felt the need to be aggressive, and always took everything she says in stride. Seeing him angry at her yesterday had been new but not unexpected, considering the circumstances. But openly expressing irritation like that? She must have hit a nerve there. Way to play down the drama, Jane.

Her eyebrows raise a little as she considers his words. No regrets for him, roger. The ball is in her court, roger that too. Now what indeed.

She knows she's postponing the inevitable decision, but she hates going blind and she has a few questions that need an answer first.

"Fair enough." She turns back to the cupboard, pulling a box out and scanning it. "Now we need to talk." She stows the box back and looks back at him, steeling herself. "From what you told me, you wanted to prank me. Care to elaborate, so I know what went through that head of yours?"

He sighs and looks to the side. Of course, she deserves that much. Putting him out of his misery will have to wait apparently.

"I wanted to pretend it worked and went wrong, that you couldn't wake me up. I never thought you'd-"

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she interrupts again, pulling another box out. "I can guess the rest, thank you very much. Now, that I've confirmed that, there are a couple of questions I can't leave unanswered." He looks back at her and tightens his mandibles warily. "First, what would you have done if I had asked you something you were really not okay with? Seriously, that has been bothering me since you came clean."

His eyes widen a little in surprise. He hadn't anticipated that her first question would be about his own safety. What about the lies, the deceit? What about the fact that he had violated her privacy?

"Huh..." he starts, putting his mind back on track. "Well, to be honest, I knew you wouldn't do that. Hell, at some point I even hoped you'd..." His mandibles flutter. "Explore me more." Well, if she's aiming for complete honesty, he'll deliver.

She shivers at his voice and words, acutely aware of his eyes on her as she keeps scanning boxes. But still, this sounds wrong in too many ways.

"Ok, I know you don't have the best sense of self-preservation around... even if I don't really want to be the pot calling the kettle black, but this is pretty damn fucked up, even for you," she says in disbelief. "Ha! Found it," she exclaims, opening a box and taking one of the doses.

"Heh." He snorts. "I never said it wasn't, and I'll admit that I surprised myself too. But y'know, it may sound strange considering how we got there in the first place, but I trusted you to keep it to a... decent level."

"Decent?" She scowls, standing up. "You call that decent? I fucking betrayed your trust, Garrus. That hardly counts as decent. How could you trust me that way after that?" She spreads her free arm, her palm upwards, and lets it fall heavily on her thigh. "Strange is a very mild way to put it!"

"Look, Shepard." He straightens and rolls his head from side to side, crossing his arms. "Yeah, we betrayed each other's trust, but we never were enemies here. Idiots? Yes. Cowards? Undoubtedly. But I also know we both have morals and boundaries, and that doesn't disappear overnight. Sure, I realized I didn't know you as well as I thought I did, but I knew that much." He briefly glances at the windows. "Yes, it crossed my mind, more than once. You want to know what would have happened if you did something I was not okay with? I doubt you'd have found anything of that sort before going through a couple of things that would have made me blow my cover." He pauses. "Huh... if you mean... intimate things, that is." He looks away, embarrassed when he realizes she could very well mean something else entirely.

"Pffft." She can't fight her smirk. "You really have a one-track mind, don't you?"

"I'm blaming you for that," he grumbles.

Shaking her head, she opens the drawer labeled "Turian" to get a clean syringe and antiseptic compresses and starts unpacking everything.

"Speaking of things that don't disappear overnight, why the fuck are you so relaxed about me betraying you?" she asks, not meeting his eyes, her jerky movements betraying her unease.

The question has him doing a double take, and he turns back to her, observing her hands preparing the syringe, inserting the dose clip in and opening the compresses. Of course she would invoke Sidonis at some point. His heart clenches at the memory. Time has passed, but this would always remain his biggest, deepest scar, too wide and too deep to ever heal completely. But however she may look at it, he owed her his life and more. She gave him purpose again, and they celebrated both their second chance at life by walking into hell together and saving the Galaxy again. How can she leave such an overwhelming context out of this?

He doesn't even try to conceal his heavy sigh.

"I'm not," he explains, taking off his left glove and rolling up his sleeve. "Don't get me wrong, Shepard. Nothing about this was innocent, or harmless, and yes, it made me uncomfortable. But you can't possibly compare it to what happened on Omega. It just… it can't compare and you know it. Did anyone die?"

"Still..." she starts, turning to him, but she's silenced by the exposed wrist he extends towards her.

"There, you can't miss it." He points at a bulging vein where wrist meets forearm.

"Alright."

She takes his wrist in her hand, silently taking in the warmth and surprisingly soft, pliant texture, and the sharp talons of his loosely folded fingers. While she takes a compress and disinfects the area and plays with the surprisingly, and thankfully immobile vein, he continues.

"Besides… I'm not going to pretend I know what you think, but I… think I understand, to some extent." He pauses as the needle finally pierces his skin. "People do weird things under pressure. And given that we're not… exactly… the sanest people around, and with the whole damn galaxy relying on you, well… let's just say I'd have been surprised if things didn't get a little crazy somehow. Aaah that feels good," he says as the muscle relaxant kicks in, untying the painful knots in his body.

She withdraws the needle and presses the second compress on the vein, gesturing him to hold it himself while she cleans up the bench.

"Not the sanest? You're full of euphemisms today. Still, some things can be understood or explained, but that doesn't mean they can be forgiven," she says stiffly while stuffing all the used supplies in the trash can. She then gets the datapad in the lower shelves and starts writing down the list of the supplies she used while Chakwas was away. "Worse, damaged trust is dangerous on the field. I need to know I can still take you on a ground squad, I don't want to let you rot on board and I need you on my six."

His head perks up at that, and he discards the compress not letting his eyes off her, vaguely hoping he didn't miss the trash can.

"So I take it that you're keeping me in the crew?" he asks, straightening.

She glances at him and snorts. Leave it to him to worry about that. Even now that he knows that she needs him, after all he heard her pathetic breakdown at the beginning of this whole mess. If only he knew how much. She puts the datapad back in the shelves and leans on the bench, hands flat on the cool surface.

"Of course I do." She sighs, dropping her head. "I can't do this without you, Garrus. That hasn't changed either. And I can barely stand the loss of our… past closeness. Our friendship has always been what has made me keep it together ever since we learned that an army of giant sentient machines were coming to wipe us out of the galaxy. I don't-"

She's interrupted by a hand on her shoulder. When she glances at him, she's met by a nervous flutter of mandibles and uncertain eyes, silently asking for permission. She nods, unsure of what she agrees to exactly or how she should respond otherwise, but wholeheartedly agreeing all the same.

Silently, he walks behind her and grabs her other shoulder. When she straightens, he gently presses his forehead on top of her head and takes a few deep breaths.

"I miss it too," he says softly, his low, raspy voice reverberating in her skull. "Spirits, I don't know what I'd become if you kicked me out of the ship… I… Only with you I can make a difference it seems, achieve something meaningful without screwing everything up in the end."

She snorts and tilts her head upwards, rubbing it on his plates.

"We make on hell of a team, right? Deadly, efficient, unstoppable… and seriously fucked up."

He snickers and starts rubbing her upper arms, covering her skin in goosebumps. She sighs softly, resting her head on his cowl.

"But even that I managed to screw up. I almost lost you out of cowardice," he almost growls out, softly rubbing his left mandible on her hair. "And you ask me if I can trust you? That should have been my line."

"I drove you into a corner, Garrus. It takes two to tango. Like I said, can we just learn from it and move on? Mmmh keep doing that," she mumbles as he starts kneading her muscles.

He happily complies, massaging her arms and shoulders, loving how she relaxes between his hands, eyes fluttering and breathing calm, even. How many times had he dreamed of touching her body like that, just for the sake of physical contact? This felt incredibly trusting, intimate, things he would have never thought she would allow between them again. It was like taking in a broken landscape after a storm. Silent, peaceful, the contrast with the recent violence making it even more precious and beautiful, despite the landslides and broken trees. He could think of worse ways to lick their wounds.

"Why now?" she asks, slightly rolling her head to the side.

He lifts his bare hand on the offered neck and slowly kneads the tense muscles, letting her hair slide on his fingers, tickling his hide.

"Why what now?"

"Mmmh right there… is this your bare hand?" she asks curiously.

"Huh, yes? Why?" His hand freezes on her neck.

"Don't you dare stop now or I'm throwing you out the airlock," she mock scolds.

He chuckles and resumes kneading.

"We're docked," he deadpans.

"Irrelevant. It's just… they're surprisingly soft."

His hands leave her neck and he circles her with his harms, sliding his head next to hers so he can see what he's doing and starts removing his other glove. She watches his every movement, relishing the heat radiating from his body, enveloping her in a loose embrace. When he tosses the glove on the bench, she immediately grabs his right hand and starts exploring it, observing how the fine plates on the back dissolve into soft hide over the strong, pliant muscles, how his palms remind her of the texture of cat paws, only rougher, how his talons prolong his fingers in a surprisingly elegant way, their sturdiness, their subtly blunted end.

He braces himself on the bench with his other hand and lets her explore him with the same childlike curiosity she expressed when she first explored his face in the main battery weeks ago. He grabs in turn a passing hand, stroking the fine skin and feeling the many bones underneath, fascinated by the dexterity she displays with her too many fingers. How can she keep track of all of them?

"EDI, be a dear and close the windows. And lock the door," she suddenly orders, out of the blue.

Only the small beep of the lock confirms that the AI complied. She really had acquired an impressive level of thoughtfulness and tact since Joker unshackled her, and right now Garrus is very thankful. Nothing like exchanging nonobligatory platitudes with a robot to kill the mood.

"Don't want to make anyone uncomfortable," she clarifies. "I could do with a lot less drama in the foreseeable future."

"Can't argue with that," he mumbles against her cheek. "What if it's Chakwas?"

She snorts to repress a shiver, and starts massaging his hand.

"She's seen worse."

"I'm sure she has… besides, she… hum. Knows."

"About what?" she asks, slightly turning her head towards his.

"I may have asked her if you had any… allergies," he admits, shifting in place.

"Pfft. That would explain a thing or two," she says with a smile.

She fumbles with his hand for a moment, trying to entwine their fingers in a way that would feel natural, with mixed results.

"So why expressing interest now? Either you were already interested before, and I guess this whole… mess was a green light for you, or you weren't and I fail to see how exactly my epic fuck up could steer your mind in that direction. So, which is it?" she finally elaborates.

"Ah, that," he says, closing his hand on hers. "Well… it's complicated, but the gist of it is that I might have unconsciously always considered you out of my reach."

She has to raise an eyebrow at that.

"I thought you had reach?" she teases, enjoying a little petty revenge.

He drops his head on her shoulder and sighs.

"I never should have told you that," he says in mock dismay, unable to stop his mandibles from fluttering in amusement.

"Heh. But I get it." She looks away. "Not the first time it happens," she explains, unable to hide her slight disappointment.

He squeezes his hand and wraps the other arm around her ribs, pulling her closer to him, surprising her.

"I'm sorry, Shepard, but please try walking in my boots for a second. You already were a celebrity when we met, remember? And I'm still looking up to you, even today. You're the best damn soldier I've ever met, and I've screwed up most of what I've tried to accomplish without you. How do you think I feel in comparison? It still baffles me that you would deem me as your equal."

"Are you kid-" she starts, squirming a little.

"I'm not done" he continues, placing their joined hands on her opposite shoulder to keep her in place. "Remember what you said on that first… dive? That you were nothing but some kind of undeserving broken soldier with too much blood on their hands? You have no idea how much it killed me to keep my mouth shut. I can't believe you could forget so easily all the lived you saved. You deserve so much more than those token titles you got. You deserve to be proud."

She doesn't answer, at loss for words. Instead, her free hand comes to grab the wrist of the arm holding her torso, as if anchoring herself on him would help her keep her balance despite the heady, overwhelming wave of emotions washing over her, tugging at her heart and making her head spin. She's been so used to people either worshiping her like something she's not or underappreciating her input and accomplishments that she had started seeing her own life through that same distorting filter a long time ago. And here this Turian is offering her this lost reality back, where things were fair, straightforward and healthier, because he saw through all the bullshit, who she really is. And there she almost lumped him together with all those idiots who won't look past the carefully crafted image they've been fed with in fear of finding flaws, ugliness and broken dreams.

She clenches her teeth and closes her eyes, feeling tears of gratefulness threaten to spill. It's nice, getting a glimpse of that world again. She knows it's just a respite, but sharing this short moment of righteousness with him is enough for her to believe she can be brave again, that everything is not lost, as if the warmth of his body is pure energy seeping through her, bringing her to her full potential again. She feels it on her skin, her bones, her every muscle, from her cheeks to her fingertips and her insides, leaving her craving for more. More contact, more warmth, more energy, more action, more of him.

"Garrus?" she asks, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

"Yeah?" he answers warily, lifting his head a little and loosening his grip.

"I want you so much right now," she whispers

His body tenses as a shiver shakes it from head to toe. After a few seconds of stunned silence, he tightens his grip on her again and lowers his head, and takes a deep breath.

"Spirits, you… I..." He clears his throat. "Can we, huh… should we… now? I mean, here?"

She snorts at the sudden nervous wreck clinging onto her.

"Hell yeah. Unless you're not game, of course. I don't want to pressure you."

He lets out a tense, breathy chuckle and lets his left arm slides from her torso, letting the palm of his hand stroke her stomach on the way and settle on her left side. He can feel the taut muscles twitching underneath the fabric of her top, so strong, alive, yet forming a soft, almost unnaturally graceful arc where his hand fits as it was meant to be there all along. He feels her hand slide over his, covering it yet not guiding, not demanding, just waiting for his next move.

"I am, and you don't need to." He turns his head so he can nuzzle her neck. "Damn, that waist."

Her breath hitches as his hands starts to slide up and down, slowly, tentatively exploring her body. His breath is tickling her neck and his voice sends delighted shivers down her spine, making her melt in more ways than one. Her back is already sweating due to the heat radiating from his body, but she knows it has to do with the familiar tingles running up the insides of her thighs too. She squeezes his right hand, tightening his grip on her shoulders and lets her left thumb hook itself in the fabric of her tank top to lift it when he next slides his hand upwards.

"I remember you saying something about it yesterday," she teases with a smirk.

"Mmm… could we please forget about that for a moment? Oh, wait, I remember something too."

He sneaks his hand under the edge of her top, up to the first ribs and squeezes once. The effect is immediate. She suddenly squirms violently, shrieking and hitting his nose with her jaw, and he has to withdraw his head and grab her free hand to avoid further damage.

"Don't you fucking dare do that again!" she growls, turning her head towards him.

He releases both hands, chuckling, and grabs her hips instead.

"No squeezing the ribs, got it."

She places her hands on his, awkwardly entwining their fingers and guides them back on her waist. Her head falls back with a soft but slightly exasperated sigh as his fingers start tracing her abs, melting her indignation away. His hands are so warm on her skin, painting it with tingles, and she's surprised at how easy it is to forget that there are sharp objects at the end of those fingers. She shouldn't be surprised, knowing how deft he always was, but being handled with so much care and dexterity is incredibly endearing, and surprisingly refreshing.

"I swear I've gone too soft on you," she says with a soft, amused smile.

"You won't hear me complain," he murmurs, nuzzling the side of her face.

To make it up to her, he slides his thumbs at the back of her hips and starts kneading them. This unexpectedly tilts her pelvis forward and she has to release his hands and brace herself on the bench to keep her balance, and the sudden press of her backside against his groin pulls a sharp hiss out of him. He's so close to bursting out. He leans forward to whisper in her ear.

"You sure about this, Shepard? Can't hold it in any longer."

His voice, words and his desire for her are awakening things she thought she had lost long ago. She feels wanted, sexy, powerful, and incredibly light-headed. She had almost forgotten how intoxicating it felt to be desired that way, desired for who she truly was. She raises her left hand to grab his neck and arches her spine so she can brush her lips against his scarred mandible.

"Probably not," she whispers, "but I don't give a shit anymore. I'm done thinking. What I'm sure about is that I need you. In me. Now. Yesterday."

Well, that's good enough for now. With a low, rumbling moan, he turns his head, seeking her lips and she immediately presses them against his mouth with a soft whimper. His right hand slides up to her waist, admiring the incredible display of flexibility, while his left hurriedly unclasps the front flap of his pants. He happily notices his urgency is mirrored by her free hand tugging her workout pants and underwear down, desperately wiggling her hips to ease the process but failing to lower them past her soft, round backside. Maybe he would laugh if his whole body didn't felt electrified by the sight, smell and feel of her, clinging to his neck like a lifeline and showering his face and mandibles with nips and kisses and trying desperately to strip because she wants him that much.

That single thought, that Shepard, of all people, this magnificent soldier, this powerful, strong woman would become such a desperate mess in his hands out of desire for him is enough to blow away the remnants of control he has over his own body and his cock slips out so fast it almost hurts.

He worries her for an instant as he breaks the kiss with a small "Unf!" but the moment something soft, hot and wet falls heavily on the small of her back, she immediately knows what it is and her breath catches. The feel of his hands sliding down her hips, dragging her clothes down while he nuzzles her jaw are enough not to trust her knees anymore, but then they move to the front of her thighs and slide back up, talons raking their inner side, leaving trails of fire just shy of her groin and she has to cling on his neck harder and brace herself on the bench with her free hand. Who had that bright idea to do it standing right here again? Ah, right, that was her.

His hands settle on her hipbones and he pulls, pressing his hips against her and she can feel his cock sliding on her skin freely, his natural lubrication whispering promises of the things to come. The moan that leaves her lips is sinful, unrestrained, shameless and she doesn't care.

"Shepard..."

Her name comes out as a growling whisper, making her skin vibrate and her thighs reflexively rub against each other impatiently, feeling the wetness making her lips glide against each other and spread a cooling feeling at the contact of the air.

"Yeah?" she manage to choke out.

His hands slide back up to her waist, stroking it, as his tongue comes out and caresses her trapezius until his nose pushes her hair out of the way. Her brain, too drunk on arousal and other images involving that tongue, doesn't register the feeling of his mouth opening over the side of her neck until… he pinches her skin. Hard.

"Ow!" She releases his neck and recoils to put her hand on the abused spot, glaring at him. "The fuck, Garrus? I don't mind playing a little rough but that's-"

"Oh crap, I'm sorry!" he says in panic, lifting his palms in surrender.

She snorts at the horrified look on his face, and the absurdity of the situation. Of course this was going too well, they should have seen some sort of weirdness coming, knowing it obviously was both their first time with another species. And here she was, her butt exposed to a panicking alien because something apparently got lost in translation. Heh, things could be worse, and his erection , still rubbing on her lower back, is more than enough to put her mind back on track. It has somewhere else to go and her impatience wins the battle against the sudden awkwardness.

"Chill out, big guy," she drawls with a smirk. "Why don't you put those hands back where they were and tell me what just happened?" Her hand comes up to caress a mandible invitingly.

With a sigh, his right arm snakes around her waist while he grabs the hand on the side of his face. Damn, he really needs to get a grip, or he may very well kill the mood for good. Luckily, they already have built up enough tension for it not to pathetically crumble under a minor setback, but maybe it's time to learn a bit about each other. He moves her hand to the side of his neck, right below his skull, and moves to whisper in her ear.

"Here, there's this… spot. If you pinch it, you'll turn the prissiest Turian into a shivering mess."

She lifts an eyebrow at the randomness of this Turian feature, but is very happy to have something new and fun to play with, and immediately pinches it as hard as she dares. Indeed, the effect is immediate. His body is suddenly shaken by a strong shiver and he lets out a low, rumbling moan, suddenly thrusting his hips forward and holding her closer, pressing his erection hard against her. The sudden, harsh contact and his very vocal appreciation make her shudder from head to toe, and she distantly hears the breathy, needy "aaah" uncontrollably slipping out of her own mouth. Yep, fun to play with indeed. She's probably going to overuse this.

"Spirits, Shepard… can I… please..." he whispers, his breathing heavier, still holding her tight but tense and immobile, trying hard to avoid dry humping her but he was reaching his limit at a terrifying pace.

"'Bout time," she breathes out, turning her head to grab the closest mandible with her mouth and briefly suckle on it.

He keeps her hand in his and lowers them on the edge of the bench for support, and slightly bends his legs to get to her level.

"Guide me," he murmurs on the nape of her neck.

Her right hand immediately sneaks between their bodies, reaching blindly in places she has yet to see, feeling the warm hide sliding under her fingertips until she feels the unmistakable, thinner skin of his sheath surrounding the base of his cock. As her fingers slowly glide upwards to get a good grip on it, they suddenly meet a copious amount of gooey wetness, visibly dripping generously from higher. She knows she should be weirded out by this, but no. If anything, she finds it extremely arousing and flattering, vaguely wondering if this is how it feels to discover how wet a woman has become out of anticipation.

Garrus tenses as he feels her withdrawing her hand in a hurry. Did something go wrong again? Not now please not now. But then he sees her watch her fingers, now sticky with his pre-seminal fluids, with what he supposes is fascination. Or is it curiosity? Of course, Human males don't lubricate. The moment she brings her fingers to her nose and sniffs them, he hesitates between amusement and worry. But the next second, she sticks them in her mouth and licks them, and his legs almost give out at the sight. This woman is going to be the death of him.

"Shepard..." he growls, resting his forehead between her shoulder blades to try getting his wits back, breathing heavily.

She chuckles, quite proud that her little show has had the desired effect, and reaches for his erection a little more confidently. She finally grabs it, noting the softer underside, reminding her of the inside of her cheek, only shaped like four parallel snake-like, annulated parts she guesses are his seminal ducts, almost akin to giant earthworms held together by a stiff, narrow shaft on top. She hastily pushes the earthworms out of her mind and slowly guides him down the cleft of her ass to her lips, a little worried by the pointy feel of it on her sensitive folds. At least, it's pretty soft and not as wide as she thought.

"Go slow ok? It's been a while for me," she hurriedly asks, her uncertainty showing through her words.

"Of course," he mumbles on the damp fabric of her top, and starts to gently push forward.

And slow he goes, relishing the warmth and slippery softness gradually engulfing him, the surprising texture inside, hugging him tight. It feels like she's completely absorbing him, body and mind, their whole beings melding and blurring in a whirlwind of sensations to the point where he doesn't know where he ends and where she begins anymore, as if they would soon fuse completely, finally materializing that beautiful bond, that strong and precious connection he vows to never endanger again. Halfway through, he realizes he's holding his breath, and he releases it in a loud, purring moan, and his head starts spinning, eroding his sense of reality.

"Stop!"

He freezes and blinks, realizing that she's awfully tense in his arms, worry quickly sobering him up from his high.

"What's wrong?" he asks urgently.

"How far are you?"

"Huh, almost all the way in, why?"

"Well, your dick is rather pointy and it's poking me the wrong way right now, can you please not go farther than that?" she requests, visibly a little disappointed at the turn of events. "Damn, I thought you guys were not that long," she adds with a small sigh.

"Well, in proportion to our height and compared to many of your males, we're not," he explains, trying hard not to move. "The need to stow it inside imposes some… constraints. But we're still taller and I personally have, huh..."

"Reach, I know," she finishes with a sly smile, looking at him from the corner of her eyes.

"Right." He snorts. "But if it feels too… pointy, it should get better once my ducts have expanded. Just give it a minute. Unless you want to stop, that is. I'd understand."

His hand is starting to tremble on hers and she knows he's demonstrating an incredible level of self-control right now. It makes her heart soar. This Turian may very well be the most thoughtful lover she ever had, and she wants him all the more for it. And if he says it gets better, she believes him.

"No way in hell. Now make those ducts expand, Vakarian," she mock orders with the best authoritative voice she can muster.

He lets out a breathy chuckle as he slips almost all the way out, and pushes back in with a whispered "yes, m'am".

He sets a slow, lazy rhythm, never going too far, and she finally relaxes, taking in all the sensations. His tight grip on her waist, his hand gripping hers, his labored breathing on her neck and shoulders, and the wonderful feeling of being filled, gently, that she had almost forgotten about. It felt incredible, to be connected that way with him. He had become so important in her life, she wasn't sure she could even consider opening herself, body and mind, to anyone else right now. And with the unadulterated respect and attention he's treating her body with, she could practically feel her trust in him building again, slowly healing and even soaring to new heights. It's overwhelming, heady, and she closes her eyes to bask in his embrace and pretend nothing else matters in the entire galaxy.

But soon enough, she starts to notice it. The slow swelling, the hardening, subtly changing texture of the surface of his cock, getting slightly more uneven with every thrust. Where is this going to stop? How wide will it get? The awareness that this is out of her control, that she has no knowledge over what exactly is happening is sending chills of apprehension up and down her spine, adrenaline suddenly releasing through her veins and heightening all her senses. And oh boy does she love the thrill of it. She can even smell the faint hint of bitter almond she tasted on her fingers in the air now, tempting her to have a taste again.

As if on cue, she feels a trail of wetness trickling down her inner thigh. Her right hand reaches down to catch it, trace the trail back up, coating her fingers with the slippery substance, until they get to her soaked lips. There, she reaches a little farther back until she touches her folds, stretched wider with every thrust, and Garrus's cock, which she can feel sliding in and out, in a precise, rhythmic motion. She tries to imagine how it looks, this alien appendage penetrating her so easily, and it's all kinds of obscene. She throws her head back and lets out a long, shameless, needy moan.

"Spirits..." Garrus murmurs, mesmerized.

He hadn't known what to expect when they finally decided to do it, but he certainly hadn't anticipated seeing Commander Shepard moaning like there's no tomorrow at the feel of his cock inside her. And hot damn, this was possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever witnessed. And with how tight she's hugging him, the sweet friction her strangely textured inner walls are stimulating his ducts with, he knows first wave is coming his way faster than a charging Krogan. He just prays he won't reflexively ram too deep in the process, the last thing he wants is to hurt her.

"Deeper," she breathes out.

He slows down, processing her words and trying to articulate an intelligible answer.

"You sure?" he whispers in her ear, making her visibly shudder.

"Yesss… not.. pointy anymore," she manages, barely, between labored breaths.

Sobering up a little, he bends her over slightly, carefully rearranging their left arms so they both lean on their elbows on the cold lab bench. Then, ever so slowly, he tilts his hips upwards and goes deeper, and deeper, until he can feel her curious fingers at the base of his sheath. He takes a few seconds to catch his breath, not moving.

"You ok?" he asks warily.

"Hell yes," she groans, dropping her head.

Taking this as green light for moving again, he pulls out halfway and rams back in, a little harder than intended. But the moment of worry vanishes completely at her pleasured cry as she throws her head back again. With a low growling moan, he releases her waist, grabs her right hip, and begins thrusting faster, deeper, and she has to put her right hand back on the bench to brace herself.

The empty med-bay is soon filled with moans, grunts and soft mewls of pleasure and they finally let go, apprehensions and doubts lost in rapture and intimacy, suddenly filling the void left by their broken friendship with a new kind of closeness. It's raw, beautiful and electrifying to the point where all the lies, the betrayal, the pain and anger suddenly feel like a small price to pay.

Without warning, Garrus stops thrusting, buried all the way inside her, and starts shaking, his hips practically vibrating behind her, letting out a rumbling, pleasured mix between a cry and a howl… and starts thrusting again immediately, momentarily confusing her, until her brain manages to call up enough brain cells to remember that Turians have multiple, shorter orgasms. Oh right.

She vaguely wonders how longer he can go now, feeling the long forgotten warmth spread from her sex like a spiderweb, sowing tingles in its wake, hinting that maybe, maybe she can hope to need no manual intervention this time, even though it's been so long. Until then, she just enjoys the ride, the feel of this incredibly strong body now pounding into her in earnest, filling her like no man ever did, hitting all the right places, the almost desperate breathing and grunts on her neck, and oh God the cooling, numerous trickles of fluids now sliding down both her thighs. Every little orgasm he reaches, no matter how short, feels like the sweetest compliment coming from him when he breathes her name adoringly while his body loses control. She feels beautiful, desirable. And she really could get used to that.

Her head is spinning, her heart is pounding and she feels like she's floating, losing herself in a whirlwind of sensations and her grip on reality rapidly fading as her vision goes white, and she's suddenly letting herself go in another kind of dive, free falling into a bottomless sea of pleasure with Garrus's name on her lips.

He's so lost in her incredible softness, the overwhelming, heady smell of their lovemaking, the unexpectedly delicious way she feels around him, how fast he's hit by ecstasy, wave after wave, like a never-ending earthquake, that he jumps a little when her whole body tenses, the brutal change of pace startling him. And it hits him immediately. She's having an orgasm. Not wanting to miss any of it, he releases her hand and straightens, grabbing her waist with both hands as he continues to thrust. His eyes widen in disbelief as she suddenly collapses on the bench, crying out a garbled, approximate version of his name and her head lands heavily on the side, eyes rolling up in their socket and mouth agape.

"Spirits..." he chokes out, too flabbergasted to keep his rhythm or having any kind of coherent thought beside trying to etch the sight into his memory, permanently.

He had learned through his… research about human orgasms but seeing Shepard losing control so hard that way, with him of all people, is something else entirely. It's surreal, and he has to concentrate to make sure that yes, this is real. He had never seen her face showing an expression akin to this one. And damn, he could get used to this.

He just stands there, slowly coming down from his high, still buried deep inside her, and slides a hand up her back to massage her neck, a little worried by her silence and sudden atony. What should he do now? Is that normal? He leans forward and studies her face.

"Shepard?" he calls, worry clear in his voice.

"Mmngh?" is her reply.

He heaves a long relieved sigh that ends in a breathy chuckle. When he pulls out, she grunts in protest, but doesn't move. He snakes his arms under her and leans down, resting his head on the same side as hers, between her shoulder blades and her neck.

"Sorry, but if I don't move I'll… deflate. I wouldn't want to get all pointy in you again," he clarifies.

"Mmmh."

"Are you alright, Shepard?"

"Mmmyeah."

"Not convincing."

"Mmm leaking."

"Ah."

"Myeah. Ah." She snorts. "I need a shower."

"Right. I think it's safe to say we both do."

Still, neither of them makes a move. They stay like this, quietly resting on the bench, for a full minute, lost in thought, trying to contemplate what just happened. Only the low buzzing of the incubator and the faint blowing noise of the ventilation can be heard, until they hear a distant clatter, muffled by the thick smart windows.

"EDI, whawuzzat?"

"Dr. Chakwas accidentally dropped a cup and silverware on the floor," the synthetic voice answered, like a sharp knife cutting through the fog.

"Shit," Shepard curses, her eyes snapping open.

They both quickly stand up and she grabs a handful of paper towels from the dispenser by the sink, hands him a couple and starts roughly cleaning herself, barely registering EDI logging her out.

"She's not going to be too happy about this, is she?" Garrus asks, visibly amused.

"Probably not," she answers, pulling her pants back up, wincing at the sticky feeling of her thighs on the synthetic fabric. "But you know what?" She turns to him with a smirk, wiping her hands clean.

"What?" he asks, still closing his pants.

"Totally worth it," she says with a sly smile, dropping the soiled towels in the trash can.

He closes the distance separating them and grabs the back of her neck, slowly lowering his head to hers, until they touch, gently.

"Couldn't agree more. Now I believe you said something about a shower?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! First smut! Damn, that was hard to write! And I'm so fucking nervous right now.
> 
> [ShadowedFang](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3724174/) was the one who whispered WET DREAAAAM in my ear, so thanks for the idea!!! ;)
> 
> Note: A [Caladrius](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caladrius) is a mythical bird from the Roman mythology, so I borrowed it to give the Turian their equivalent for a unicorn.
> 
> And *drumroll* the fanart of the day is mine for once!!! I hadn't drawn in ages and [this is how it turned out!](http://5isyphe.tumblr.com/post/137298888254/for-hittosama-this-is-her-shepard-in-her-awesome) This was made as a tank you gift to the amazing [Hittosama](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hittosama/pseuds/Hittosama), who basically gave me the push I needed to try writing, and gave me a lot of precious advice. Besides, I couldn't recommend her ME fic, [Semper Fi](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4040863) highly enough.
> 
> Which leads me to my next announcement: I have a tumblr now! I'll post updates about my writing there, so come say hi at <http://5isyphe.tumblr.com/> :)


	17. See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooookay... that took forever, sorry... bumped in a couple of walls and life happened, so I'm late AF. I hope you like it anyway! ^^'

Shepard leaves the bathroom with a sigh, a towel still loosely wrapped over her head. How long had it been since the last time she took a real bath? She can't even remember.

Since they got their butts handed to them by Kai Leng on Thessia, she's been beside herself with fury. So she did the next best thing and caved in, accepting Anderson's offer to move into his apartment on the Citadel. She had refused at first but after that debacle, she really needed a place to be alone for a little while before running, yet again, after Cerberus. And the Citadel being on the way, she decided to kill two birds with one stone. Restock, and sulk. And she needed both.

Needed wasn't necessarily the right word when it came to sulking, and sulking wasn't necessarily accurate either, but she needed a real break, alone. She had been so close to lashing out at everyone on their way back, and she didn't want a repeat of last time. Dumping her anger on her crew was bad enough already when they were not involved in the issue, but doing it when they all took the same blow was incredibly irresponsible of a commanding officer, and counter-productive at best. She didn't want to be one of those, so she chose to clam up until the fire dies down and the pills kick in.

She opens her duffel bag and grabs her pair of workout pants, a tank top, a hoodie and clean underwear. She rubs the towel once more on her head, discards it on the bed, and starts dressing slowly, feeling the exhaustion turn her bones into lead.

She didn't even talk to Liara. She knows firsthand what it's like to watch your home world turn into ashes and yet, she avoided talking to her during the whole trip back, in fear of putting her foot in her mouth. And with how she was her usual blunt self on the field, hell, even before in the shuttle, she never got a chance to give her any support. What a shitty friend she makes.

She collapses heavily on the bed with a huff, and rolls on her back. The ceiling is immaculate, like the rest of the apartment. Hell, even the Citadel itself was not as damaged as one would expect after Cerberus's stunt. A far cry from the disaster tearing Thessia apart. No wonder so many people here were still blissfully oblivious to the actual brutality of the slaughter taking place on their own home planets. No wonder Liara was in shock. Knowing and witnessing were entirely different things.

She closes her eyes, and tries to relax, to forget for a moment, to ignore, let slide, stop caring, be selfish for a while. She'll talk to her soon enough anyway. All in due time. The Shadow Broker is a big girl.

Instead, she focuses her thoughts on Garrus. There, at least, things are looking a little brighter. For once. Good news are hard to come by these days, and she's going to make the most of it. Any spark of light, however small, in all this darkness and gloom is worth taking, cherishing and nurturing. And fighting alongside him again, like the well-oiled machine they were meant to be, had been one hell of a spark. Even their interactions on board, which had been deteriorating gradually before their little showdown had improved tremendously. Until Thessia, that is.

However, it was soon obvious that things could not go back to the way they were before, just like she had feared. His behavior towards her had changed, albeit subtly, and she knew hers changed as well. It was slight, barely there, but it still hurt that their previous strong, close friendship was a thing of the past. They were still close, but something broke between them that day, and they both were aware that they were mourning it together.

But it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.

She had once mocked his "always be prepared for the worst" attitude towards life, saying that it wasn't exactly the best way to keep hope, but it may have rubbed off on her a great deal in the end. Or had she always been a pessimist in denial? Probably a bit of both.

She had been sure she would lose her best friend over that, but it turns out he still is the one she spends the most time with. And despite the ever present squeeze of her heart, she can still relax, be herself around him. Not as much as before, but there's that undeniable tension, that pull between them that she finally feels that she can own freely. Almost.

And it's good enough.

Nothing is lost, Lavoisier was right, and they're still alive and breathing, thus able to figure out where stoichiometry leads them.

She feels her thighs twitch as she remembers where it has led them so far. She never planned this, he obviously hadn't either, and she was fully prepared to regret it later, but surprisingly enough, she doesn't. She suspects this to be one of the perks of having sex with someone who belongs to a species who's generally more relaxed about it, and she's not complaining. She'd take unexpected normalcy over dreaded awkwardness any day.

It really had brought most of his lost confidence back, and the complete lack of typical post-sex behaviors some of her past Human partners tended to display, and annoy her to no end, was very much welcome. No strutting about , no knowing looks, no random cheesy words, just a quietly, subtly happy Turian, more relaxed than she had seen him in a long time.

Even if he had every right to brag.

She had been sure that despite all the xenophiliac nutjobs out there, having sex with an alien couldn't compare to the natural compatibility members of the same species share, but apparently that was not the case. Sure, it had been a little awkward at first, and anatomical specifics had to be taken into consideration to avoid any unwanted damage, but with the appropriate precautions they happened to be very much compatible. And that was a very pleasant surprise.

Granted, she had wanted him so much in that moment that she wouldn't have really cared if it wasn't really satisfying, but that had been nothing short of mind-blowing. Not only because of the pleasure they shared, but also for the patience, the care, the respect, the trust he showed. It wasn't much of a surprise, given how considerate he's always been towards her, even at their worst, and she wouldn't have let that happen otherwise. But actually feeling that care and attention on her body, through the palms of his bare hands, was something else entirely.

She sighs and absently rubs her crotch through the fabric of her pants, not as much to find relief as to acknowledge her body's honest reaction to the memories of him despite the exhaustion. There was no denying it, she loved every second of it and wouldn't mind getting more. Even the few awkward moments they had were endearing in a way, and brought them even closer, like intimate memories an old couple would remind each other from time to time with a knowing smile and giggling fondly.

Something that had an alarmingly low probability to happen to either of them if they couldn't finish the Crucible in time.

She groans and rolls to her side, irritated by her brain's inability to take a proper break, even when she couldn't hope for a better place to find a little peace. Her hand blindingly reaches behind her to tug at the covers and throw them over her body, as the heat from the bath is starting to leave her. She closes her eyes, forcing her mind to focus on Garrus's hands, how they felt in hers when she kneaded and played with them.

She realizes she fell asleep when she hears a loud, unknown chime. She sits up warily, looking at the bedroom door with a frown. Assuming this would be the doorbell, she gets up and makes her way to the front door, not bothering to restrain her irritated sigh. Indeed, a blue light is blinking on the intercom console. She finds and presses the video feed button and the monitor comes to life, to reveal a rather fidgety Garrus in civvies.

The shadow of a smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she admits to herself that should someone interrupt her long awaited moments of loneliness, she's actually glad it's him. Her urge to kick the intruder out of the tower abates as she turns the microphone on.

"So, I take it that there's a Reaper attack on the Citadel?" she asks sarcastically.

"Well, hum, not that I'm aware of. But I still wanted to offer some company… if you… changed your mind," he answers, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"I see you still have issues with following simple instructions," she deadpans, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah… That was a bad idea." He briefly glances to the side. "Well, if you want to… hang out at some point, just ping me. I'll be-" He's interrupted by the door swooshing open, and takes a second to recover before entering the apartment.

She leans on the wall beside the console, crossing her arms, as she watches the stiff Turian stand with his hands behind his back.

"Relax, Garrus, I'm not going to bite your head off." She snorts. "Besides, to be honest, I'm actually thankful for the distraction. Brain's not cooperating. Can't stop mulling shit over. Not the best way to get any proper rest," she admits with a tired smile.

"Ah, good thing I came with a few… distractions, then," he says cryptically.

She raises an eyebrow at his nervous theatricality in a silent question, her soft smile lingering in endearment. But her eyes widen and her smile falls when his right hand appears from behind his back with a single, bright orange rose simply rolled in a transparent white plastic wrapping tied with a pale green cheap looking gift ribbon.

He watches her warily as she seems to have frozen in place completely, as if time stopped around him. He even feels the urge to glance at the traffic through the massive windows, just to see some kind of movement. He had had second thoughts about this ever since he left the flower shop, even though he spent a long time with the shopkeeper discussing what Humans associated with flowers in their culture. He had settled for something simple, fairly sure that he couldn't go wrong with it, but did he just end up unconsciously overstepping a boundary he had no knowledge of? The more time stretches, the more he's starting to panic.

"It's, huh… the lady told me this meant 'friendship' and huh… 'desire', and I remember you said you'd like to get flowers from time to t-"

"Pffft"

Time starts flowing again as she bursts into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and she has to sit on the floor as she's doubling over, tears pearling at the corners of her eyes. He watches her struggle to catch her breath, feeling like an idiot with the flower still in his extended hand. Of all the ways he had imagined it to go wrong, losing her in mirth had been pretty low on the list. Well, he hadn't seen her laugh like that since the shower incident, that's still a victory. Sort of.

"Shit, Garrus," she says between lingering fits of giggles. "You actually remembered that? Holy crap." She heaves a sigh, leaning back on her hands and looking at him with a rare, genuine grin. "I'm hesitating between digging a hole to hide in it and hugging you right now."

He seems to deflate and flops down on the ground, joining her with a heavy sigh. Then, he shakes his head and chuckles.

"What can I do to steer your mind towards the hug? Y'know, I'm really starting to see why Humans are so big on them."

"Just tell me you didn't get nail polish to paint my toes with that," she deadpans.

Her eyes widen again when his hand reaches for a side pocket on his pants and takes out a small bottle of royal blue nail polish with his free hand. She stands flabbergasted for a few seconds before letting out an undignified mix of a groan and a chuckle while she rubs her face with both hands.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she mumbles.

"I can still exchange it for a different color if you don't like it," he adds, amusement back in his voice.

"Oh shut up," she retorts with a frown. "Gimme that," she says, extending a hand towards the bottle.

He hands it to her and she takes it in her hand, feeling the cool glass bottle slowly warming up at the contact of her fingers. It's a beautiful dark blue with the tiniest hint of a metallic sheen that catches the artificial light with a cooler hue. She glances up at him briefly as she tries to guess how much of a conscious decision it was for him to pick a color so similar to his markings. Maybe she'll ask him later.

"I wouldn't know what to do with that anymore, though. Hell, I haven't seen a bottle in decades," she muses with a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Good thing I did some research, then. Mind you, I never got to practice, but that can't be harder than welding a motherboard to a gaping back piece."

"Well, at least now we have something to cover the patch with, Mr. I-save-the-galaxy-with-style-for-posterity," she teases with a smirk, waving the bottle around.

"The colors don't match, Shepard, you really have no taste," he retorts with a bored voice.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she waves him off with a hand. "But seriously, I think the last time I had my nails painted was on Mindoir, with the neighbors' daughter. I don't even remember her name, but she had a bottle or two and liked dolling me up from time to time. I think she used me as the little sister she never had. Her kid brother was a pest." She chuckles at the memories as she lets her hands play with the bottle.

Garrus stays silent for a moment, unable to find anything to say to that. It was the first time she ever shared childhood memories with him, and he's fairly certain he's now one of a selected few. He just silently hopes his silence won't be interpreted as a lack of interest, but can't bring himself to ask for more either, lest it breaks the spell and brings up memories that are better left buried.

Thankfully, she quickly stands up, pockets the bottle and extends a hand towards him with an amused glint in her eyes.

"C'mon, we're not spending the evening in the doorway. And I have to search the house for a vase now."

He takes her hand and lets her help him up. As he follows her in the kitchen area, he takes in his surroundings. The apartment is extremely spacious, more than he had expected. When she mentioned it was Anderson's, he had expected something more utilitarian, less… luxurious. It didn't really seem to suit the man. Then again, he knew very little about the Admiral's personal life to make plausible assumptions.

"That's one hell of a palace," he muses out loud. "Especially for the Citadel."

"I know, right?" she answers from where she's rummaging through the cupboards, visibly still unfamiliar with the place. "And you haven't seen the upper floor yet. This is ridiculous. Ah!"

She closes the cupboard and walks triumphantly with a bud vase towards the sink and fills it with water. She opens some drawers with her free hand until she finds a pair of scissors, and walks back towards him to set her finds on the counter.

"So," she starts, extending a hand towards him. "Friendship and desire, huh?"

He clears his throat and hands her the flower, watching her as she carefully unwraps it.

"Sounds awfully corny when you say it like that, but… yeah," he admits, absently picking up the discarded bow. "I won't lie, Shepard. I really enjoyed our little… tryst in the med-bay, and I'm hoping we can have round two some time. I had high hopes for that shower, you know?" he scolds, frowning at her.

She snickers as she cuts the stem, remembering how she totally bailed out on him when Chakwas caught them as they exited the med-bay, demanding they properly disinfect the bench. She felt so sticky and gross in her pants, with the various bodily fluids having leaked much lower than anticipated that she had immediately pulled the excuse of having to call the crew back and prepare for Thessia. That she did, naturally, but not before a quick shower to get rid of the icky feeling between her legs.

"Yeah, well, I hadn't realized having sex with a Turian could be this messy," she argues, putting the rose in the vase and admiring her handiwork.

"Ah," he just says, disappointment showing in the slight slump of his shoulders.

"Don't get me wrong, it's kinda hot in the heat of the action," she clarifies, walking to the kitchen island to set the vase on the countertop. "But seriously? The leaking fucking reached my calves," she deadpans, giving him a jaded look.

He snickers, leaning on the counter.

"Well, unfortunately, that's what happens when you make a Turian very happy. So it's not a deal breaker for you?" he asks, hopeful.

"Of course not," she answers while heading towards the fridge. "Hell, sex is messy whether there's a Turian involved or not, but just don't expect me to ignore my pants sticking to my skin afterwards," she adds, grabbing a can of Tupari and tossing it to him.

He catches it easily, his brow plates rising in surprise.

"Anderson has Tupari in his fridge?" he asks in surprise.

"Of course not, it was empty," she clarifies with an amused smile. "Did some grocery shopping before settling in, and I figured you'd come to visit sooner or later."

He watches her pour herself a glass of water and downing it, momentarily stunned by the thoughtfulness she showed even though all she probably wanted while buying those was to isolate herself completely. It's incredibly touching and unexpected considering the circumstances.

"Thanks," he simply says, opening the can.

She shrugs, and walks back to the kitchen island, to softly touch the petals of the rose, reveling in the long forgotten velvety feeling of them. She hadn't seen one up close in ages, and hadn't realized how much she missed this kind of little pleasures. She always was a very practical person, but sometimes stopping by a flower just for the sake of savoring the simple beauties of nature was a nice and welcome change. When she had told Garrus she'd like to get flowers, it was just a figure of speech, to express how she sometimes wanted things to be different, wanted to have a taste of normalcy and a carefree life, but she never thought he would have consciously listened, let alone taken her words literally and then would act on it.

She didn't even realize right away where that came from when he handed her the flower, and momentarily felt like she had swapped dimensions and landed in a world that she couldn't make sense of. But upon understanding what just happened, she just was blown away by what must be the corniest, yet sweetest thing anyone has done for her in decades, and she still has a hard time figuring out how to react to that.

"Well, thank you for the gifts, I..." she starts, her eyes riveted to the rose. "I never saw any of this coming." She snorts. "You sure are getting creative in finding new ways to take me by surprise."

"I like to think I'm making some progress here. Making you laugh is a pretty good upgrade from getting punched or thrown on the floor," he muses, tilting his head to the side.

"I bet it is," she says with a smirk, and walks past him, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's have a seat." She flops down on the couch facing the fireplace. "So, now that you're here, did you get any news ab- what are you doing?" she asks when he sits on the coffee table right in front of her.

"Taking position. I'm on a mission, remember?" he says with an amused flick of his mandibles, extending a gloved hand towards her.

She snorts, and gets the nail polish out of her pocket to give it to him.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this."

He takes the bottle, chuckling, and grabs one of her feet as she slumps back into the couch. He takes a moment to observe it, taking in the tiny little toes, once again wondering how Humans don't spend their lives breaking them one after the other. They look so fragile, so easy to tear off.

"Not what you expected?" she eventually asks with a smirk, a barely there hint of worry showing through her amused tone.

"No, huh, I mean yes… It's just… It's the first time I'm holding a Human foot, Shepard. Of course I need to scout out the position," he quips, quickly recovering from the embarrassment of having been caught staring.

"Of course," she repeats with a smile, while he sets her foot on his knee.

He opens the bottle, carefully lifts the brush and wipes off the excess product against the border of the neck, in a careful imitation of the vid he watched on the extranet. He then leans over her foot and starts painting the minuscule nails.

"As for the news, I have good ones. My family is okay, they made it off Palaven. It was tight, but apparently they had a crack pilot who managed to pull off the impossible," he says, a relieved smile relaxing his mandibles.

"That's fantastic." She straightens with a genuine, soft smile. "Must be one hell of a weight off your shoulders."

"It is," he confirms, glancing up from his work. "My sister was injured right before the evac but she's already recovering."

She relaxes back on the couch, noticing a lack of enthusiasm in his voice, at odds with the news.

"What aren't you telling me, Garrus?"

He pauses on the last toe for a second, then gently puts her foot down and grabs the other, settling it on his knee with a sigh. He starts painting her toe nails again before speaking.

"I'm thinking about all the families that won't be as lucky as mine. I'm still wondering if a full retreat was the best call," he reluctantly elaborates.

She stays silent for a moment, unable to find the right words to express how much this echoes deep within her, and she knows why he was so reluctant to elaborate. He knows how much it does. Or at the very least, he must have a pretty good idea. Suddenly words don't matter as much, yet they feel heavier too. Being reminded of the burdens they're both carrying makes her head spin. The stark contrast with the triviality of their current activity is brutal.

"For what it's worth, I think it was the best move," she finally says. "I fully trust your judgment."

He pauses again and looks up, piercing her with an intense, unreadable stare, making her slightly uncomfortable.

"What?"

"I'm still getting used to the idea that you can trust me after… you know," he answers, going back to his task.

She does a double take at his words, a cold wave of dread crawling up her spine. What if she had underestimated the damage because of his relaxed attitude? He said he understood her behavior to some extent, but that doesn't mean everything was alright.

"Does it mean you don't trust me? Now that I think about it, you never really ans-"

"Spirits no!" he interrupts, sitting upright. "I didn't mean it like that. It's… I had time to come to terms with it. You haven't. Not a lot anyway," he clarifies, gently putting her foot down. He closes the bottle and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking her in the eye. "You don't have to worry about this, Shepard. I trust you with my life and will follow your lead to the bitter end." He then looks at the bottle, wondering what the small lettering means. "How long does this stuff take to dry?"

She stares at him dumbly for a few seconds, her throat constricting and her body relaxing at the same time, her fingers twiddling the seams inside of her hoodie's pockets. She now realizes how much the thought of having lost his trust in her had terrified her, despite their old natural dynamic being back on the field, and yet how used to that thought she had become. After all, she deserved that much, right? How could he still blindingly trust her like that? How could anyone for that matter? After the Thessia fiasco, however, chances are people are realizing she's not the superhero they think she is. But Garrus… He knows who she really is. He knows, yet he still trusts her with his life. He was there to witness the biggest failure of her entire career, yet he's willing to follow her lead without a second thought.

"Why?" she asks softly, her voice slightly wavering.

He looks up from the bottle.

"Why what?"

"How can you still trust me to that extent after-"

"I believe we already went over that," he interrupts with a frown.

"… Thessia," she adds with a frown of her own.

"Ah." He briefly glances at the traffic through the window. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No… Yes." She sighs. "I should." She lifts a foot and looks at her freshly painted toe nails. "You actually did a great job. I'm impressed," she adds with a lopsided smile.

"Of course I did," he says in mock offense.

She lowers her foot back on the floor and looks through the window for a while, trying to find a way to properly word what she knows she needs to get off her chest.

"Have you talked to Liara?" she eventually asks, not tearing her eyes off the blinking lights outside.

"Yeah, Tali was pretty insistent that I should do it since you weren't going to. She's devastated but she'll recover. She's strong."

She closes her eyes and sighs.

"I should have talked to her. I know that. But damn, when I think about all the Asari who sacrificed their lives for what? Helping me make things easier for fucking Cerberus to steal the key to completing the damn Crucible right under our noses?" she almost growls. "How can I face her and tell her I need her to keep going? That we'll win this war?" she adds, turning to him. "She just saw her own people being uselessly decimated on my call."

He drops his head for a moment as if the dark tiles would give him the right words. So this is Commander Shepard's weakness. Of course it is. Now how to put it into words without sounding patronizing? He looks back at her and tries his best to choose his words carefully.

"Look, Shepard… Yeah, things went sideways, as per usual." He snorts. "I don't even think I can name a mission we carried out together that went without a hitch. It's a damn miracle we got this far already. Yes, for once, we failed a mission, but a battle doesn't make a war. We're still in this. The Illusive Man won this one? So what? We're going after his illusive ass tomorrow to take the VI back. And we will. Kai Leng will be there too. All that anger and frustration you're feeling right now? Save it. Bottle it up and when the time comes, unleash it on the bastard to rearrange his body at the molecular level."

She stares dumbly at him for a moment before snorting with a smirk.

"Nice pep talk. And you say you're not cut for command?"

"I'm serious here, Shepard." He sighs. "Thessia was already gone by the time we got there and you know it."

"I know you are," she retorts, her smile falling. "But seriously, do you really believe every word you just said or was all this just to make me feel better?" she asks, immediately realizing she's being unfair.

"Really?" he starts, unable to stop the irritation to escalate. To hell with subtlety. "Yes. I do. I thought you knew me well enough to know I wouldn't do that to you. And I also believe that you're not used enough to failure, and that's why it's hitting you so hard."

That effectively kills any kind of retort from her. She looks at him, her face blank, studying his frowning face and hard eyes. She can't deny the logic behind his words, and remembers how much he's lost, and how much his own failures have been weighing on him, how much he's been comparing himself to her. And despite her anger at herself, at Cerberus and at being taught a lesson like a snotty brat, she does feel like shit for reacting badly to his heartfelt, honest encouragements. Of course he meant it. Maybe the fact that he was never shy about expressing how much he's learned from her made her forget how much she has, and should learn from him too. Could she be any more conceited?

She folds her legs to rest her feet on the edge of the couch and runs her hand in her hair with a defeated huff.

"That's not helping, is it?" he says, lowering his head again.

"No," she answers, lifting her hand in a stopping gesture. "As much as I hate to admit it right now, you're right." She drops her hand and rests her head on the back of the couch, looking at the infuriatingly immaculate ceiling. "Damn, I really must sound like a spoiled brat."

"No," he corrects, lifting his head. "You sound like a tired soldier who's afraid to hurt a friend."

She closes her eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut to chase the sting of incoming tears away. Somehow, hearing someone voice what she's been carefully hiding to the world gives her the validation she's been secretly craving, but makes everything more tangible, real, raw. It makes her feel less lonely, but sharing the burden reminds her how heavily it weighs on her shoulders. She feels boneless, jaded, but maybe finally able to rest for a while.

"Shepard?" he asks, worried by her silence. "Are you okay?"

She straightens with a tired sigh.

"Yeah, I guess. I suppose I needed that. Thanks," she answers with a tired, faint smile.

"Any time." He snorts, shaking his head. "Damn, and here I was supposed to distract you."

"Well, there's still time for that," she says with a small, sly smile. "Got anything to suggest?"

"Huh," he starts, glancing at the window while absently scratching a mandible. "I may have a thing or two in mind but whether they're appropriate after such a heavy topic is debatable."

She silently observes the flick of his mandibles, somewhere in between nervous-flick and mischievous-flick, but not quite clear for her human eyes to decipher, and feels her smile growing on her lips. If the inkling she has about where this is going is right, that would actually be a distraction she wouldn't mind going along with, and she can already feel faint tingles of excitement running down her tired body, slowly waking it up.

"Try me, big guy," she taunts with a smirk.

He stares at her for a few seconds, absently playing with the nail polish bottle in his hand, wondering whether he severely underestimated how effective his little speech could be of if she really has a supernatural ability to shove incredibly stressful concerns aside at will. Or maybe that by dint of sticking to a "fake it 'til you make it" attitude through all the horrors and hardships they've survived, selectively disregarding her burdens as the need arises has become a second nature to her. Until she reaches the breaking point and goes berserk for a while, that is. Still. As much as it's likely to be the reason she's managed to go this far without crumbling under them, he can't help but feel unease every time she does something similar, and now is probably the most brutal occurrence he's witnessed so far. He knew there was a chance she would take the bait, but he didn't really think that would happen. He knows it's just a fortunately effective coping mechanism, but he can't help sensing ugly, dangerous things lurking in the dark underneath the blanket of indifference. It worries him, in more ways than one, but deep down, he can't help a shameful pang of envy for that uncanny ability.

"Are you sure?" he simply asks, not wanting to elaborate. Now is the time to play safe.

"Yes," she answers, her eyes hardening a little, telling him how much she's guessed about his reasoning, and how much she does need that distraction right now regardless of his opinion on the matter.

Fair enough. It's not like he's going to complain.

He braces himself for what will undoubtedly be his boldest move so far. He doesn't remember exactly when this idea started forming in his head, but it has become something he can hardly stop thinking about whenever they're alone. He knows she's not going to throttle him but the nonzero probability that she would take it badly still makes him nervous. But as Tali said, today may very well be their last day together.

He suddenly clenches his fist around the bottle.

"Dive now."

She looks at him with a dumbfounded look on her face, all the previous hardness in her eyes disappearing instantly.

"What?" she splutters.

"You heard me, Shepard," he says, his back tense and elbows digging into his thighs. "I believe you owe me four and I plan to collect."

He watches her face slowly morph into a lopsided grin, and he already knows he's never going to live that one down.

"Why, Officer Vakarian, have you maybe forgotten to mention handcuffs when you told me the reasons why you joined C-Sec?"

Yep, definitely not.

He drops his head, chuckling, and straightens, turning on the side to place the nail polish on the table next to his forgotten Tupari. He turns back to her and elaborates, slightly tilting his head from side to side in an attempt at nonchalance she's probably going to see through.

"No, Shepard, they didn't play a part in that. But now that you mention it… Well, you know me. I always make sure to learn from the best," he adds with a twitch of the mandibles.

"Touché." She snorts. "So you're going to order me around for a while?"

"Obviously you can still bail out and tell me to piss off if you're not okay with where this goes, but… ahem, yeah, I must admit that the idea of ordering you around is undeniably arousing."

Her smile widens uncontrollably while she considers it. Had it been anyone else, she probably would have told them to piss off right away. But she can't help remembering every time he had let his assertive side loose, and how incredibly hot it was. Just thinking back on how he had teased her after the shower prank, still dripping wet and oh so close was enough to make her body ache with the urge to squirm. Besides, he's already proven how much respect he's treating her body with, so she wants to trust him here. And to be honest with herself, she's really curious to see where he wants this to go.

"Alright," she finally says, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Awaiting your orders, Adviser Vakarian."

She watches in fascination as a myriad of different expressions succeed each other on his face. First, genuine surprise widen his eyes for a moment. He really must have anticipated the "piss off" option. Then, he chuckles in disbelief, briefly glancing down at the floor. And finally, that peculiar, undecipherable stare is back in his eyes as he focuses back on her intently, that same look he's been giving her a lot lately, and that she suspects betrays naughty thoughts. She feels electrified with those intense eyes on her and almost shivers when he finally speaks.

"Strip."

She surprises herself how eagerly she complies despite the slight pang of discomfort at the prospect of him seeing her naked. Not that she is self-conscious or shy in any way, shape or form, but this isn't about that. He never showed any sign of interest in humans before her, and even the many Asari strippers they've come across never made his eyes wander, well not that she's aware of anyway. What if she's too far from home in his eyes? But then again, he never needed to see her body to be attracted to her, but if they're going to make it a regular occurrence, they'll have to get used to each other's bodies at some point. So she gets up with a smile and unzips her hoodie, then discards it on the couch.

When she drops her workout pants on the floor he glances at the window worriedly.

"Wait, shouldn't we take this elsewhere?"

"Why?" she asks, halfway through pulling her tank top off.

"The window, can't people see through it?"

"Let them watch, I don't care," she answers, tossing her top on the back of the couch.

"Okay, I'm not in the best place to care either right now," he starts, focusing back on her body. "But we seriously need to talk about this apartment's lousy security."

"Yeah, later," she deadpans, a little annoyed, while undoing the clasp of her sports bra. "Seriously, Garrus, discussing domestic security while a lady's stripping for you?" She rolls her eyes. "Such a charmer."

"Right. Later. Sorry," he hurriedly adds, his voice a little breathier than before, while she throws her bra over her top.

He watches her in silence as she slips her boxers down her legs and picks them up along with her pants to put them on the couch. When she straightens and turns back to him, she immediately notices his eyes roaming over the expanse of her naked body, from her freshly painted toes to the tips of her hair. She can almost feel his gaze on her skin, not leaving anything untouched. His face is expressionless, his eyes focused and his body eerily immobile, and she once again can feel his predatory side teasing her most basic instincts. She can feel tension rising inside her, a mix of anticipation and wariness heightening her senses. She now notices the faint buzzing sound of the AC and the artificial fireplace, how the latter casts a halo of orange light around him, subtly warming the gray of his plates, the muffled, whirring sound of the skycars outside and the moving shadows cast by their headlights.

"Scouting out the position?" she finally quips with a smirk when his silence stretches too long for comfort.

"Can you blame me for being curious?" he asks with a tilt of his head, straightening a little.

"It can't be your first time seeing a naked Human in the flesh, is it?" she asks curiously, putting her hands on her hips and leaning back on one leg.

"No. I've shared common showers with a few since C-Sec. Only males though."

"Heh. I know you avoid busy hours but that would have been a miracle after so long on the Normandy."

He snorts and extends a hand towards her.

"Tell me about it. Come closer," he orders with a low, breathy voice that sends tingles along the back of her neck.

She complies, putting her hands in his and letting him guide her to the distance he desires, almost between his knees but not quite. Still holding her hand, he inhales deeply, his eyes closing.

"Wow. You're actually enjoying this," he observes, his voice deep, laced with a hint of surprise.

"Would I be here if I didn't?"

"Good point."

He removes his gloves and discards them behind him without tearing his eyes off her. When his hand softly touches her hip, sliding upwards to rest on her waist, she can't suppress a shiver. He notices, and looks up to her with a genuine, wide-mandibled, happy smile, and she can't help smiling back. Than another hand caresses her leg from the knee to the other side of her waist, sowing faint tingles in its wake.

"So soft," he murmurs.

"Too soft?" she asks, trying not to sound too worried.

"No," he quickly replies, glancing up at her. "It's just… different." His fingers softly trace the outline of her abs. "It's… fascinating how easy it is to see your muscles moving under your skin." His thumb finds a scar on her side, right under her rib cage, and draws lazy circles over it. "Gunshot?"

"Yeah. Mindoir. Couldn't get medi-gel soon enough to avoid a nasty scar."

Instead of answering, he scoots closer, slides his hands up the small of her back and gently presses his forehead over it, as if to soothe young Jane who just got her side grazed by a stray bullet while running for her life. Or maybe because he doesn't know how to answer.

The hand on her other side starts wandering again, up to her shoulder blade and back down to her hip in slow, reverent strokes. The warmth of his hand, his breath on her skin, his closeness are slowly electrifying her body and heat starts pooling in her belly, making her clit and inner thighs tingle.

"So I take it that my body doesn't bother you?" she asks, her hand stroking the back of his neck.

He chuckles and leans back to look at her.

"No," he answers, slightly tugging at her hips to make her step forward. "I'm not going to pretend it never worried me, but once again, you manage to blow up my assumptions." He lifts his hand to grab her upper arm and slides it all the way down to her wrist. "There's… elegance… grace, in those soft, smooth lines. Battle-hardened iron wrapped in purity, fragility even. I really find the contrast fascinating." His other hand rises to the top of her chest and slides down, from between her breasts to the top of her crotch. "And finally seeing this body naked has me burning with curiosity."

His wandering hands, his raspy voice and the tangible focus he's exploring her body with quickly make her breathe faster, and she can't suppress a breathy moan when his thumb slides over her lips, barely spreading them, the air suddenly cooling the wetness slowly pooling there.

He quickly releases her, mumbling an apology, to loosen his pants with a relieved sigh.

"Curiosity, huh?" she quips, her voice a little hoarse.

"Among other things."

She chuckles as his hands immediately grab her thighs, slowly massaging them, feeling the muscles twitch underneath. Then a hand continues to massage upwards, to her hips, waist and further up, carefully avoiding her sensitive ribs, until it gently cups one of her breasts.

"I've read conflicting information about those, is this an erogenous zone?" he asks, carefully rolling it under his three fingers, feeling the texture.

"It depends," she answers, a little out of breath. "For some people, it is. Just not everyone."

"What about you?"

"I fall in the 'don't care' category."

"Good," he says, letting his hand slide back down on her hip, the talon of his thumb drawing nonsensical patterns between her hipbone and her crotch, making her hiss. "You won't be mad at me if I forget about them, then."

"No," she confirms with an amused smile.

His thumb slides to her pubis, playing with the hairs for a moment, too close but not close enough, driving her insane.

"I trim it," she finally says, impatience lacing her words.

"Oh."

Then the thumb slides lower, and slowly, carefully lifts the hood of her clit while he lowers his head to look at it more closely. As much as his curiosity and naive exploration of her body is endearing, she has to clench her teeth, chanting "be patient, Jane" in her head like a mantra to keep herself from pouncing on him and metaphorically ripping his clothes off with her teeth. But her patience never was her strongest asset, and right now it's wearing dangerously thin.

He finally leans back again, dropping his hands on his lap, and looks up, piercing her with that stare again.

"Show me how you pleasure yourself," he orders.

She can't help but shudder. Not only the idea is surprisingly arousing, but it shows how much he wants to learn about her body before trying anything and she wants him all the more for it. How much of an idiot was she for not trying to put this Turian in her bed sooner? But it doesn't matter anymore, now that she has him here, she'll make sure to make the most of every second they share. And maybe put on a little show for him in the process. Anything for science, right? She can't repress the smirk tugging at her lips.

She puts a foot on the coffee table beside him and reaches between her legs, soaking her middle and ring fingers. She can see his eyes following her every movement as she slowly massages her lips before reaching her clit. She never tears her eyes off him as she starts moving rhythmically, occasionally reaching lower, even when she lets out a breathy moan while clenching her thigh with her free hand. She can see every twitch of his hands, every subtle squirm of his hips, how his breathing accelerates and revels in the power she has on him without even having to touch. He looks transfixed, yet barely able to keep his hands off her, or off himself. She can feel the restraint, the desire emanating from him, creating a paper thin distance between them, tangible enough for the tension to keep building up, yet it seems that the lightest touch would break the dam.

"Have you ever done this while… huh… thinking of me?" he croaks.

"Mmmyes," she says in a breathy moan, without thinking.

As soon as she realizes what the question was, she feels her cheeks heat up and her muscles tense. Did Garrus, of all people, just asked her that?

"Spirits," he breathes out, further loosening the bottom of his tunic, yet still not giving in to the temptation to find some release of his own. "And, huh… Hum. What were you thinking about… specifically?"

She closes her eyes and throws her head back, recalling every time she had sought release with him on her mind, and she has to slow down a bit to prevent the sudden surge of pleasure to reach the boiling point, as all her private little fantasies suddenly feel within reach, anticipation and eagerness replacing loneliness and resignation. As for sharing all of them… she's not sure she's quite ready for that yet. But there have been recurring topics that are probably worth sharing.

"Your… ah… tongue," she manages, while the knee supporting her weight starts trembling ever so slightly.

When his reply doesn't come, she looks back down, only to find him with his brow plates raised, looking right back at her.

"Really? Of all the… Oh." His looks sharpens as understanding dawns on him. "Yeah… I see how it must look… exotic to you," he adds with a smirk.

He then annihilates all hope for her to gather her wits and come up with an intelligent response by sticking his tongue out, so slowly that she briefly wonders if it will ever end. She has to freeze her hand with a whispered "fuck" not to come then and there. It's even longer than she thought.

And an amused flick of his mandibles tells her he's very happy with her reaction. This Turian has to be the biggest tease of the whole galaxy when he sets his mind to it.

When he grabs her hand from where it has gone very still between her legs and pulls it towards his face to let his tongue twirl around her fingers, slowly caressing them, tasting her with his eyes closed and a lazy sigh, she can't hold in a desperate, shameless whimper, her legs barely keeping her standing anymore. Her mind even has a hard time processing how arousing the sight and feel of his tongue is. It's incredibly lewd, and seeing Garrus doing it, slowly opening his eyes to look right back at her is unbelievable. Who knew this strong, brave, vengeful Turian, this incredibly precise and deadly soldier could turn into such an irresistible, sensual creature?

"You're beautiful," she whispers without thinking, and she means it. Her whole body does, she can feel the tingles, small shivers and the clench of her heart as it suddenly overwhelms her. She never would have thought she would think that about an alien, but here she is, going into transports of fascination for a being so different, yet probably the only person in the galaxy she ever felt such a strong kinship with.

He pauses for a second, piercing her with an unreadable stare, then abruptly scoots back, tugging at her hand until she's forced to put her other foot on the coffee table to not fall over, on the other side of his lap, with a yelp of surprise.

"Hey what-"

"Stand still," he orders, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse.

He grabs her hips firmly and runs his tongue up the inside of her thigh, feeling her body shiver through the palms of his hands. He really needs to get a grip. Her scent is stronger than ever now that he's so close, and he now knows that her taste is just as tempting, but he doesn't want to rush this. He had expected a hint of bitterness on her fingers like what he was used to from his own species, but it wasn't there. It was rather bland, a little salty, with a strong undertone of something indescribable that was probably very Human, and surprisingly enough, he finds himself very willing to explore that taste more. Very, very willing.

Shepard always comes up with the best ideas.

When his mouth reaches her crotch, he feels her tense and grab his wrists for support, tight. Then, slowly, he lets the tip of his tongue slither between her folds, teasing them, gently rubbing the small hood on top where he knows interesting things hide. The effect is immediate. She suddenly cries out and shudders, almost bumping his nose, hard, with her pubic bone. He leans back, chuckling and looks up to meet her hooded eyes and gaping mouth.

"Did you just..." he starts.

"No," she breathes out. "But it won't take long if you keep that up."

He can feel, deep inside his chest, that hunger rising again. That same inexplicable hunger he had felt back in her cabin when they had shared that human kiss and he had heard her moan languidly. That strange need to devour her, absorb every last molecule of her body, like a child who would smother a pet to death out of overflowing, passionate affection. The mere thought that he's the one to give her enough pleasure for her to lose control of her body this way, when she's always so strong, so controlling, so magnificently natural at leadership, is enough to set his body aflame in desire and pride.

He dives back in with a growling moan, tightening his grip on her hips, and lets his tongue dance on her, explore her over, between, inside, reveling in every moan, every plea for more, right there, don't stop, every approximate attempt at articulating his name. She's now leaning forward, her legs trembling under his hands one hand gripping at his fringe for support, a little too hard for comfort but the sight of her unbridled like this is so addictive he can't bring himself to care. Instead, he moves his newly free hand to slide the side of his thumb between her soaked lips to massage her clit while he tilts his head to the side and pushes as much of his tongue inside her as he possibly can, doing his best to press harder where it seems to make her react the strongest until her body tenses like a bow string and finally snaps with a pleasured cry, hard enough that he has to withdraw his head quickly, making her lose her grip on his fringe.

He watches her ride the wave in amazement, trying to keep playing with her clit without scratching her with his talons despite her body spasming uncontrollably. She finally collapses bonelessly on his lap, resting her head in the crook of his neck, breathing hard. He lets his hand wander on her back, slowly caressing her soft skin up and down while she catches her breath, and can't resist softly resting his head on hers as he tries to ignore the nagging itch between his own legs.

"I can't believe you just did that," she finally breathes out after a minute.

"That makes two of us," he answers close to her ear, making her shiver. He chuckles softly. "You really like my voice, don't you?"

"You're not going to let me live it down, are you?"

He smiles as he can practically feel her glare on his neck. Instead of answering, he slides his hand down to slowly massage her soft, round human ass, exploring the surprisingly pliant yet resistant texture of it.

"I wonder how it feels," he muses.

"To have my butt?" she asks mockingly.

"To have a Human orgasm," he corrects in feigned exasperation. "Ours are naturally much milder. That must be mind-blowing."

"Well, that one certainly was," she admits around a sigh, while snaking a hand around his neck, stroking his hide.

He's taken aback by the sudden, spontaneous admission and his voice is washed away by the sudden wave of pride crashing over him, sending tingles through all of him, from his talons to his neglected erection. He presses his forehead on her shoulder in silent gratefulness and lets his hands slide back on his back in quicker, more urgent caresses, making her moan in appreciation. He then settles them on her waist, softly kneading the soft flesh.

"I did it too," he mumbles against her skin.

"Mhdid what?"

"Think of you, while… pleasuring myself," he admits.

"I figured as much," she quips, softly pinching the sensitive area near his fringe, making him shiver. "Didn't you borrow my shower for that very purpose the other day?"

"Ah, right." He sighs. "But that time doesn't count."

"Alright," she agrees with a smirk, straightening so she can see his face, twiddling the clasps of his tunic. "And what exactly were you thinking about?"

"This. Among other things."

"This what?" she asks, undoing the clasps one by one.

"I kept thinking back on… the last time I had you on my lap." She flinches slightly. "And I couldn't help trying to imagine what would have happened if there had been less clothes and armor involved," he elaborates, softly stroking her upper arm for emphasis.

"And what would have happened?" she asks coyly, opening his tunic and sliding it off his shoulders.

He laboriously pulls it off and tosses it in the general direction of the couch, while her distracting fingers briefly explore his chest before starting to work on his pants. It takes him a few seconds more to remember he had to answer a question.

"Well," he starts, kneading her thighs. "I would be able to feel those legs of yours, and that glorious waist. Because I certainly wouldn't have been able to keep my hands off you."

"Glorious?" she asks, chuckling, while opening the front flap of his pants, freeing his erection.

"Yessss..." he hisses in relief. "Like I said, your curves really grew on me, Shepa-ah!"

But she had already started her own exploration, taking him in her hand, running her fingers along his seminal ducts, feeling the wetness and the smooth, harder surface of the shaft. He can already feel himself expanding under her touches.

"And then?" she whispers close to his neck while starting to stroke him in a slow, lazy rhythm. "What would happen?"

"Huh..." he starts, trying to get his mind back on track despite the tingles of pleasure and anticipation coursing under his plates. "You would've… you… oh Spirits yes don't stop," he breathes out, resting his head on her shoulder and gripping her hips, hard enough to leave red marks under his talons.

"Awaiting your orders, Adviser Vakarian," she murmurs in a breathy voice. "Tell me what you want."

Her words send an electrifying pulse of something raw, wild, hungry, primal and liberating through him, making him shiver in delight, sending waves of energy through his limbs and violently tearing his self-control down in a low, rumbling moan. He grabs her hair and tugs on it until he can press his forehead on hers and stare right into her eyes.

"Fuck me, Shepard," he growls.

She shudders with a barely audible mewl, feeling a powerful jolt of arousal shake her whole body and resonate with every low vibration of his voice. There's a void growing deep within her, threatening to devour her if she doesn't take this man, now. Has she ever wanted someone this badly? She doesn't care anymore at this point. Nothing else matters. The galaxy fades away, everything disappears but that warm, inviting alien body and their mutual desire threatening to burn them alive.

"Yessir," she hisses with a playful smirk, pressing her forehead back and hurriedly aligning her body over his cock.

She throws her head back as she slowly sinks onto him with a low, contented moan, and the feel of his hand still clutching her hair almost painfully while his tongue runs up her throat makes the sudden fullness all the more satisfying. When she's finally taken all of him, his free hand comes to hold her firmly in place by the hip and he guides her head back down for a clumsy but passionate kiss. It's still awkward but she melts into it, letting him nip at her lips and tease her with his tongue. She can feel a low, barely audible rumble vibrating on his mouth plates and it makes her smile against him.

She lets her hands roam over his chest as they slowly part, tracing the plates, the arcs of his cowl and the firm muscles of his abdomen, feeling the incredible warmth, the rough yet pliant texture that she can finally get her hands on. Oh, how she had died to do that since the shower prank. Seeing him standing there, almost naked and dripping wet had fed her with many a fantasy that she never thought would ever be fulfilled.

"You feel so good," he whispers, releasing her hair to gently run a thumb on her cheek.

She leans into the touch with a sigh as her hands slide along the inside of his cowl, playing with the visible tendons at the base of his neck.

"How about you release my hip so I can make you feel even better?" she suggests with a playful smile.

"Ah, right," he mumbles, sliding his hand lower on her thigh, lazily stroking along her muscles. "Sorry I wanted to... savor the moment before first wave hits. But if you keep talking like that you probably won't even have to move." He sighs, softly rubbing a brow plate on her temple. "Spirits, what are you doing to me?"

"First wave?" she asks before taking his thumb in her mouth and scraping the talon with her teeth.

"Mmmm… first orgasm," he clarifies, his breath fanning over her cheek.

"Nooooow that's something I want to see," she quips with a smile.

She slides her hands up on his mandibles and kisses him, as she starts moving at a slow lazy rhythm, reveling in the soft gasps, the pleasured sighs and fluttering eyelids. His hands are everywhere, spreading fire and joy on her skin, making her body forget that it was trained to take lives, not share pleasure. His talons softly rake down her back and her head falls back with a long, languid moan, echoed by a low, vibrating growl that resonates deep within her.

Yearning for more of him, she shifts to put her weight on her toes, taking him faster, deeper, the stretch and friction sending tingles coursing on her skin and dying on her cheeks. He lets her set the pace, yet his touches, his wandering eyes, his whispered words of praise, barely audible under his labored breathing make her slowly drift into a faster rhythm.

Until it happens.

His hands suddenly grab her waist, slamming her onto him with a growling howl. She cries out, momentarily dizzy, feeling fuller than ever, a soft pulsing and vibrating sensation making her muscles clench around him as she holds onto his cowl to keep what little is left of her balance. Upon seeing his face, she forgets how to breathe. His head is slightly rolling on the side, his eyes are closed, his mouth open and his mandibles completely lax, offering a clear view of rows of perfectly aligned, razor sharp teeth and a spasmodically coiling tongue.

She know, somewhere at the back of her mind, that she should be at least a little put off by the alien, predatory sight, but she's not. Not even one bit. Instead, she's thrilled and overwhelmed by fascination at seeing his face morph into an expression she's never seen on a Turian, much like the day she saw him laugh uncontrollably, and she can't help the surge of satisfaction at being the cause of it. He had been so imperturbable, so into his role every time he had pretended to be hypnotized when she couldn't even hold herself together that seeing him lose control under her is the sweetest revenge.

And she's going to savor every last second of it.

When his grip on her hips finally loosens and he sends her a smoldering look, she looks right back at him with a smirk and starts to move again, determined to send him back where he just came down from. She grabs his cowl, reaches back for his knee to lean on, and gives everything she's got to go faster, harder, because she wants to blow his mind, because he feels amazing, and because, deep inside, desperation is clawing at her heart. As much as she's not willing to acknowledge it, she's slowly getting drunk on urgency, her own control slipping away as pleasure and madness build inside her.

His hands are on her waist, gripping tight, talons digging into her skin, but she doesn't care. They speak of the same urgency and desperation, guiding her, urging her as though the already mind numbing violence of their lovemaking could never be enough. It's raw, primal and mindless, as if every last ounce of sentience had left them and the only things that remain are fear, instinct, need and pleasure.

Fear.

She can feel it crawling up her spine, burning cold through the heat of passion, growing fiercer and fiercer each time he comes. Every time she falls a little deeper, every time she's hooked a little harder, every time she loses a little more of her mind. Yet, every time she's soaring higher, closer to the brink, until the tension coiling within her, electrifying her whole body from the inside, is unbearable.

Until it breaks.

She distantly hears herself cry out as her vision goes white and every sensation is replaced by a floating mess of numb ecstasy. She forgets about her arms and legs, about up and down, barely conscious of the arms catching her in a tight embrace as she's flying away from reality.

"Shepard?" Garrus asks after an indeterminate amount of time, his voice cutting through the fog muffling her consciousness. "Are you with me?"

She slides her arms around his cowl and nuzzles his neck with an affirmative hum as she comes down, still breathing hard. But as the numbness and pleasure fades, the fear remains. He sighs in relief and carefully slips out, and she grips him tighter, the loss of connection suddenly unbearable. It grips at her heart, at her throat and suddenly breathing seems like an impossible task with his hands caressing her bare back tenderly.

"We definitely should try this on a bed some time," he muses.

She snorts, an uncontrollable smile gracing her lips as unshed tears suddenly blur the sight of his neck. Her exhaustion crashes back on her and she feels drained and empty, despite her heart clenching painfully. After what feels like an eternity, she finally finds the courage to face her fear, looking at it straight in the eyes.

"This… isn't just about friendship and desire, is it?"

His hands freeze on her back for a moment, and she swears he stopped breathing. But then he seems to relax, and circles her with his arms to pull her tight against him. When he speaks next, his voice is laced with something she can distinctly hear but doesn't know the meaning of.

"It never was to me."

Well, fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My eternal thanks to [LigeiaMaloy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaMaloy/pseuds/LigeiaMaloy) for the writing advice, to [MitzyBlue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MitzyBlue/pseuds/MitzyBlue) for her precious help on vocabulary, to [Taiki_San](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Taiki_San) for proofreading and his helpful suggestions, and to Chromaticism for planting the "Turian tongues" seed in my perverted mind! <3
> 
> Also, [Dive Now has been nominated for best shakarian story on the kink meme](http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/9278.html)!!!! I don't know if the votes are still open but if you want to try leaving a vote it may not be too late. Thanks a million to whoever nominated it!!!! <3
> 
>  Update: Dive now won first place!!! \o/ This is amazing!!!! Whoever supported it, thank you so much!!!! <3
> 
> [Fanart of the day! :3](http://suthnmeh.deviantart.com/art/Turian-Chippendales-328454266?q=favby%3ANisaea%2F66158671&qo=17)


	18. Fear

Seven months. It's only be seven months since the end of the war and it already feels like an eternity.

Garrus sighs as he looks at the sky through the shuttle's window, trying to calm the churning feeling in his chest that has made him mildly sick since they boarded. He knows it's futile, that it will get worse the closer they get to their destination but he has nothing better to do, and he hates being restless and uneasy like that, and being unable to do anything about it.

He still has a hard time processing the news. When he received that heavily encrypted message a few hours ago, he almost ignored it, like most of his messages lately. Thank goodness the cipher piqued his curiosity, or he may very well have missed that bombshell.

Or was it a mistake? He never had the time to consider it. Hell, he barely even remembers how he got to the provided coordinates. His body just went on autopilot upon getting the news.

She's alive. Apparently.

And now he's less than an hour away from seeing her again. Apparently.

At first, he had thought it must be a cruel joke, some kind of bad hoax. But as he traced the origin of the message, his world crumbled and soared again, once more.

It was Karin.

The same person who he now owes his life to more times than he can count.

He glances at her, where she's sat in front of him, frantically typing on a datapad, probably trying to process her own load of game changing information.

She looks so much older now, as if the war had stolen ten years of her life. Shades of exhaustion darken her eyes, speaking of relentless stress and too many sleepless nights. No wonder. There's no rest for doctors in the wake of a war. And as if it wasn't hard enough for her already, she had to keep an eye on him almost constantly, lest he did something stupid.

Because he tried. More than once.

Every time, she was there to catch him, like a Caladrius in the sky observing his every movement. Every time except that one time, when it was a young Asari soldier who walked in on him in that random apartment in ruins as she was scavenging for food and meds. Right before he pulled the trigger. When he had calmed down, they talked for a while, exchanging tales of wounds they knew would never heal. Spirits, she was so young, barely an adolescent by Asari standards. He hasn't tried to take his own life anymore after that. Not that living without… her was any easier, but talking to that kid had been a kick in the butt, somehow. He's not sure exactly why, and he doesn't care enough to find the answer to that, but he promised himself to do his best to repay the good doctor, and see what happens when time does its alleged job.

And a lousy job it did. Probably just as lousy as he did repaying Karin's kindness and patience. The last three months have been an endless cycle of trying to help, being hit in the face by his own demons in the process, failing at it and hating himself for it. At least, he managed to get rid of his addiction to painkillers that hit him during his recovery from the nasty burns that tore him away from… her. The moment he had started taking them for the wrong kind of pain was the moment he knew he had lost the will to live.

"There. Sorry for the wait."

Karin's soft voice breaks the silence, and reminds him that now still exists, that they're really there, that it really happened. He tears his eyes away from the faint glow of something slowly falling from a broken orbit, atmosphere slowly licking it ablaze on its way down. Was it the last dead Reaper in Earth's sky?

"I know this was sudden, but I had no time to elaborate, and very little to work with to begin with. I'm glad you could make it to the pick up coordinates on time." She sighs. "Garrus, I have to ask. How are you?" she asks, genuine concern lacing her voice.

He looks down at his hands for a few seconds, trying to find a way to word an intelligible answer.

"I don't know. I don't even know anymore."

Well, that works.

When he looks up again, she offers a strained smile. Probably the best she can muster.

"I didn't even think you'd come, especially on such a short notice. But I'm glad you did." She rearranges the datapads on her lap. "Now that I have more information about the situation, I can share some with you. But if you'd rather wait I'd understand."

He shifts in his seat, trying to get some sort of balance.

"I, huh…" he starts tentatively.

He glances through the window again, looking for an anchor in the sea of clouds, anything that would stop his perception of reality from swaying. The soft, regular hum of the shuttle's engine is almost deafening as the words struggle to come out, but he manages to keep his senses afloat.

Where to even start?

"I don't even know where we're going," he finally mumbles, more to himself than as an actual answer.

"Yeah, I should have started there actually," she mumbles back, rubbing her forehead. "Reykjavík. It's a city on a small country on one of the last islands to be hit by the Reapers. The Landspítali, their national university hospital, is mostly intact. They've apparently sent quite a lot of officials and the highest ranking officers they could find, or whatever's left of them, as well as a bunch of soldiers in bad condition but whom they figured they could save with medical equipment that's in one piece. Apparently she requested that I was brought in, in exchange for a local surgeon, and whatever medicine and equipment they could safely spare. Don't ask me how she pulled that off, but thank goodness she did."

She can't really hide the annoyance in her voice. He can't blame her. He's seen the shit she's been dealing with in Dublin. Most of the wounded had been moved from London to nearby cities that still had some sort of medical facilities standing, but it only added to the local disaster as they already had their own share of mayhem. The results weren't pretty. Drugs and equipment were running low to begin with, and many wounded who could have been treated in less crowded circumstances started to die miserably. People began to steal or conceal what they could put their hands on, and the resentment of the locals who suddenly lost what little control they had on the situation made it a powder keg.

In comparison, that mysterious island sure sounds like heaven. And of course, it's a VIP club. Some things never change, apparently.

But that's not what's important right now.

"How is..." he begins, shifting again. "Is she..."

"She's awake, as you've surely guessed, and in pretty good health, all things considered," she gently cuts in, sensing his struggle. Skimming through a datapad again, she elaborates. "You're aware that all cybernetics have been fried to some extent, so it won't come as a surprise to know she's now blind, and lost her enhancing implants' benefits. From what I can make of what's in here, it didn't affect her body too much, aside from a few minor internal burns that healed pretty nicely. She lost a good part of her right leg, though, as well as a couple of fingers on her right hand, and had a nasty wound on her right side. All of which are cicatrized as well by now."

"I see."

It takes him a moment to take the information in. Slowly, reality crashes in. Gradually but brutally. "She's alive" wasn't much to go by. It had felt surreal, unbelievable, not enough to properly register. Being finally able to form a picture, however, makes that reality tangible, and painfully close. So close it hurt. Again.

But there is more to that reality. A more he isn't sure he's ready for. Who is he kidding? Of course he's not. But he knows that it's going to slap him in the face when they get there anyway, whatever that more is, so he might as well prepare. Or at the very least, try to.

After a good minute of inner battling, he finally finds the energy to ask the hard questions.

"And… huh… physical health aside," he starts, "how..."

"Well," she sighs. "I have very little information on the matter. All I have here is shallow. PTSD, mild depression, a tendency to isolate herself a lot… hardly anything any of us wouldn't have seen coming, or already knew. No wonder. Better equipment or not, thorough psychological assessments require time and qualified personnel. They probably still have more pressing matters to attend to." She looks up with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Garrus, that's all I can offer."

"Figures," he mumbles to the window.

A clearing in the clouds reveals they were now right above the ocean, with no land in sight. He rubs his brow plates, trying to will away the feeling that the shuttle's floor would give away at any moment. They say free falling onto water from this height would be like hitting concrete. He briefly wonders how that would work. Would his body splatter on the surface as well? Would the dynamics be different? The mind wanders into the strangest places in times of panic.

He tries to relax on his human chair the best he can, to breathe evenly while he processes the news. Like Karin said, he didn't have much time to react after assessing the authenticity of the message. And now he's here, and there's no turning back.

It's terrifying.

From the corner of his eye, he can see her glancing at him periodically, as if she has something on the tip of the tongue but doesn't dare spill it. He would have found it amusing had he been in a better state of mind, but now it's just grating on his nerves. And making her pay the price of his annoyance is the last thing he wants. She's not the root of it, and he's done that too much already. How she's still willing to put up with him is a mystery.

"Please just..." He sighs. "Karin, what's on your mind?"

She hesitates for a moment, frowning at the datapad as if it had stolen her translator. When she looks back up, the frown softens but concern and resolution remain in her eyes.

"Did anything happen between you two?" she asks, and shakes her head. "Wait, let me rephrase that. Of course something did. If you both acting like teenagers around each other wasn't enough to figure it out, desecrating my med-bay sure was. I meant before... Hammer happened. Something bad."

Funny how she still has a hard time calling it the end of the war. But understandable. Misery doesn't end upon victory. Or only in too many delusional historical records.

Spirits, how much of a pessimist has he become?

"What do you mean, something bad?"

"I don't know, anything..."

Now he's confused. He frowns back.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well… you don't exactly seem particularly happy about the news. There's that. I know that with everything you went through you wouldn't… Let's say I wasn't expecting you to jump around in excitement, but I was… hoping, I guess? That you wouldn't be in such a somber mood either. I know it's a lot to take in and we're short on time but..." She pinches the bridge of her nose, visibly struggling to get her thoughts out right. "But that aside, well… she… goodness how do I say that..."

It hits him like a Krogan.

"She doesn't know I'm coming, does she?"

At the way she visibly deflates, he know he hit the bull's eye.

"Still as sharp as an omni-blade, aren't you?" she comments tiredly.

He turns to the window again, barely seeing through it as he tries to breathe again despite that sucker punch he should have seen coming.

Of fucking course she doesn't.

He wouldn't either if he was in her position.

"You don't seem surprised, at least," she adds. "Goodness this is hard," she mumbles to herself.

"I'm not."

Well, not really. Not now that he understands.

It's ironic, in a way, that something that brought him so much closer to her, closer to understanding the darkest parts of her is what has been keeping them apart. Or at least he hopes he's right. Is he? He must be.

"Ok," she shifts in her seat. "I'm not going to ask exactly what happened, as I don't want to invade your privacy. But is there anything I need to know so I can avoid putting my foot in my mouth? Do I have to expect some sort of crisis when we get there?"

He snorts.

"Spirits, human idioms are the best," he says with a smirk, shaking his head.

"Ok, so no major crisis I reckon?" she asks with a frown, visibly annoyed by the unexpected frivolity.

He takes a deep breath, putting his mind back on tracks to address her concerns.

"Nothing bad happened, Karin," he reassures her. "Maybe it would have been easier though, I don't know."

If anything, things had been too good. Unexpectedly so. He stills remembers vividly the moments they had shared in Anderson's mansion as they called it. They both knew the chances that it would be their last moment of intimacy were terrifyingly high, so they didn't bother holding a lot back. The memories now feel like a stab in the heart, a traitorous glimpse of a happiness that was never meant to be, but he still holds onto them. They're just too precious to let go.

He can almost still feel her in his arms as he admits that there may be more between them that what they'd originally bargained for. He can still hear her soft sobs as she silently breaks down on his cowl, as he witnesses her walls crumbling down in a deafeningly silent answer.

They had talked very little after that, but no need for it was felt. Touches, smiles and whispered nothings were enough. They made love again in the shower, or at least tried to between slippery walls and giggles, and spent the rest of the evening in bed, simply lazing around, looking at empty walls and basking in each other's touch, trying their best to forget about the imminent end of the world, with little success.

It had been bittersweet, with a little too much bitter, but he'll never forget how intense and surprisingly peaceful those moments were.

In front of him, however, Karin is still patiently waiting for him to maybe elaborate, with a look that says "I'm not going to pry but hell if I know where you're going and how you got there". Yeah, he should probably tell her a little more. The situation isn't comfortable for anyone here, and he ought to make an effort.

But damn, words are heavy and he's exhausted already.

He straightens again, to alleviate the numbness in his limbs, and to give him a little more composure. The hard seat is unforgiving with only old civvies to cushion the edges, and he needs his butt out of his mind if he is to tackle that subject.

"Remember what I told you about how I finally understood her pathological fear of bonding?" he finally starts, with more confidence than he expected from himself.

"Yes, I do. You losing her twice, getting worse every time, and your family as well… How could I forget?" she answers with a sad smile, probably remembering the mess he was that day.

He glances nervously at the window, gathering his courage. This is hard.

"I lied," he admits in a whisper.

She raises her eyebrows in confusion.

"About what?"

He clears his throat, willing it to please let the words out.

"My family. I actually have no idea of their whereabouts. Or if they're dead at all." There, he said it.

"Oh. That's actually very un-Turian of you… Sorry I didn't mean to be rude," she flounders, visibly caught off-guard.

He halfheartedly chuckles.

"Don't worry, it's become a running joke at this point. I mean me being… never mind. The point is… I'm terrified. Beyond reason." He pauses, leaning his head backwards with a deep sigh. "I'm terrified of the truth, Karin."

"I see. Hence why it comes as no surprise she would do the same."

"Well, I hope that's what it is," he adds, uncertainty almost making his voice waver.

"I came to the same conclusion, so please don't worry too much? I'm sorry to bring this up but I wanted to make sure I wasn't completely off the mark."

The relief and patient reassurance in her voice finally help him relax a little. Admitting to his lies is a weight off his shoulders he hadn't realized was this heavy.

They spend the rest of the short flight in silence, Karin quickly falling asleep despite the lack of comfort and creaking hull. He tries his best to avoid thinking too much about his father and sister, to not let the guilt consume him. But what lies ahead isn't much less terrifying, and he'd rather not think too much about it either. He's screwed either way.

He cannot lose her again. He wouldn't survive it.

There seems to be a pattern here, and it's not a good one.

Is he really ready to take that risk again?

No.

The mere thought is enough for him to get the urge to put a gun on the poor pilot's temple and kindly ask him to do a 180. But he's glued to his seat, and his body feels like lead.

Instead, he desperately clings to one thought. One little thing he mustn't overlook if he want to keep what little sanity he's managed to get back intact. A small detail that could potentially change everything.

The war is over.

Maybe, just maybe things might not go arseways after all. Maybe there is still hope, amidst all the ashes and open wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, it's been ages. I know. But sorry not sorry, I've been through a lot. I just sincerely hope you guys are still enjoying the story, and be sure that I WANT to finish it. This story means a LOT to me. Also, next chapter will be the last! \o/ Damn, it feels nice to be able to write again. :) Yay! I'm back!
> 
> My eternal thanks to [Taiki-san](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Taiki_San) for proofreading, and everyone who commented, supported me and pushed me in the right direction!
> 
> [Fanart of the day! o//](http://vaahlkult.deviantart.com/art/ME-HAPPY-FAMILY-299224251)


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